Out of the Shadows
by Pseudomonus
Summary: NWN2 post OC. After the fall of the King of Shadows, a flawed Knight Captain struggles on in the face of treachery, disaster, terrifying romance and Gnomic flute playing!
1. Prologue

There are many stories told by the Greycloaks of Crossroads keep, when they gather at the end of the day to eat, and drink, and boast of their own greatness.

Most of these are tales told wherever fighting men tell their tales, and they are always the same, though with their own fanciful decorations. There is the tale of the terrible monster, whether it is lich or troll, demon or zombie, that was brought to bay by the daring patrol, and slain in desperate battle. There is the story of the bandit lord, hunted down in his fortress lair, his minions put to flight, and himself dragged back in chains to face justice. There is the tale of the noble maiden, relieved (to her great delight) of the burden of her maidenhood, and of the riches and favours she showered on the valiant Greycloak who had so relieved her. And there is, of course, the tale of staggering quantities of ale drunk to win a two copper bet, and the consequent awakening in a pigsty, suffering the interested attentions of an amorous sow.

One of these stories is even true.

But there are three stories told by the Greycloaks of Crossroads keep that are told by no other fighting man anywhere in all Faerun. Indeed, these three tales are told by no other man or woman anywhere. And, unlike the tales of vainglorious boasting that are the common coin, these tales are told in soft voices, and stone cold sober. Usually they are told in the dead of night under the pitiless winter stars, while on patrol in the wild lands far from the keep; or in isolated corners of the walls during the darkest hours of the watch. And if a sergeant or officer should be nearby, then they will carefully turn a blind eye and a deaf ear, for fear they will have to dismiss a good soldier for telling a forbidden tale.

One of these stories is of the Knight Captain who wasn't nobility, but was a common swamp farmer. Who rose to high rank through his own heroism and skill, and who never licked the boot of any of the 'high born'. Who turned back an army of undead, where all of Lord Nasher's efforts had failed. Who then travelled with only his close companions into the darkness, to confront and defeat a great evil, and so save all of Neverwinter... "Neverwinter? The world, gods love him, the whole damn world!"

And who, despite all the stories told by the bards (and paid for by Nasher's court), did come back.


	2. Escape

It was the happiest day of Danno's life. Friends and neighbours crowded round as he walked across the sunlit grass to receive the Harvest Challenge trophy; smiling, laughing, patting him on the back. Bevil looked as if he was going to burst with pride, and Amie... Where was Amie?

Danno looked around. She should be here. She should be with Bevil and him. Where had she got to? Then he heard singing. Raucous, boozy, lecherous singing. And there she was, up on the town hall roof, waving a jug of rotgut and gyrating her hips as she chanted "I died before you! I died before you! I died befooore yooou!"

And then she leapt, swooped shrieking with laughter through the smoke and flame filled air, before crashing to earth with a sickening thud near Tarmas' house. A Githyanki nudged her head with his foot, making it roll horribly, then grinned at Danno with Bishop's grin.

"It was fine before I broke it." He sneered. "Surprisingly delicate."

Danno started struggling toward Amie, desperate to help her, trying to shout _What did you break? What?_, but his voice was silent, and the silent corpses of West Harbor closed around him, urging him toward the Harvest Field where Garius waited to give him his prize.

---

He woke to a corpse-pale glow. He struggled to sit up, fatigue weighing down his limbs, the half-remembered nightmare dragging at his spirits. He couldn't tell how long he'd been asleep; not very long, he thought. There was a little light now. Someone had thought to arrange their various magical items and weapons, those that produced light, around their prison. The dim glow, and what it revealed, did little to cheer him.

The space they were in was smaller than he'd realized, little more than a third of the original chamber. The rest was gone; shattered, tumbled stonework looming over their little party, the ill-balanced mess threatening to collapse further, crushing and burying them. What was left of the chamber roof above them was propped up by massive columns, but Danno didn't like the look of them. They seemed... ornamental. Designed to impress, and draw attention to the main feature of the chamber. Danno didn't think they were supposed to survive thousands of years of decay, hitting them and the roof above them in the space of a few seconds. He tried not to think of what would happen if they started to crumble.

Rubbing his face, trying to wake fully, Danno dragged himself upright, and looked to see how (and what) the others were doing. Zhjaeve, Sand and Ammon were still clustered around the portal that was framed by the fortuitous pillars. Dead, lifeless, tormenting in its promise, and their inability to unlock that promise. Zhjaeve was trying to explain (he thought) some esoteric point about planar travel. Sand was listening with barely concealed irritation, and Ammon looked openly scornful. It was clear that their 'discussion' had progressed no further since he himself had abandoned it in frustration and disgust. All three were simply repeating their own opinions, over and over, using somewhat different words each time, and none of them were hearing or accepting what the others had to say.

Khelgar was pacing worriedly, studying the rubble, the columns, the roof. Every so often he'd pause, staring intently at some particular block of fractured stonework, or he'd brush a hand lightly against a column, but each time he'd shake his head in frustrated helplessness, and go back to pacing.

Elanee and Grobnar were sitting together near the rubble; a good deal too near for Danno's liking. Grobnar was talking now, at least, his voice too low for Danno to make out what he was saying. When Danno had closed his eyes, Grobnar had been silent and unresponsive, mourning the loss of the golem. It had failed of course, along with everything else of Illefarn, when the King of Shadows was destroyed: but its last act, as its joints froze and its steps faltered, had been to reach up and hold a sagging lintel, buying them just enough time to bolt past it... and into this tomb. Danno had been angry at Grobnar. He had mourned Shandra's death, more than anyone else, if Danno was honest with himself. But to mourn a golem, a construct, more than he had mourned Shandra seemed to be a betrayal of her. Danno tried to suppress his anger, telling himself it was the terror of their flight through the collapsing ruins, the horror of their entrapment, and the shock of losing another friend so suddenly that had overwhelmed Grobnar. That the strange gnome counted the deadly machine as a friend (or a much loved pet) was undeniable, but for him to be thrown into silent despair at its destruction was worrying. When Danno had fallen asleep, Elanee had been talking to Grobnar, trying to cajole some response from him, and she had evidently succeeded.

Casavir was sitting quietly off by himself, meditating. Or perhaps sleeping, it was hard to tell. Danno was only too glad to let him get on with it. He was a courageous fighter, though sometimes far too reckless, but Danno found his obstinate determination to put the law higher than morality or practicality was deeply annoying. Except, that wasn't the right word. Not annoying; offensive. And his bloody, bloody death-wish; his habit of charging into impossible battles; his superior "Oh I've suffered so much and I'm so much holier than thou" attitude; his... Danno screwed shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to unclench his fists. It wouldn't help anyone if he gave into temptation, walked over to Casavir, kicked him hard between the legs and shouted obscenities at him. Well, it might cheer Neeshka up.

Oh yes. Neeshka. Let's leave the hardest until last, shall we? Let's try and bury the guilt, the shame, and the heartache under a pile of other concerns, hmm? Perhaps, if we ignore her for long enough, she'll go away, and we can stop feeling as if we've betrayed and abandoned everything that makes this shitty world worth living in.

She was off by herself, crouched down with her back to a wall, hugging her knees, her tail tucked away out of sight. She was awake, but not looking at any of the others. She was staring off into some horrible world of her own. Danno didn't know what was in that world with her, and didn't want to know. And he suddenly saw, with a dull sense of realisation, that the various glowing artefacts weren't arranged around the chamber. They were arranged around Neeshka. A feeble, fragile barrier against the darkness.

Danno sighed, struggled to his feet, and moved over to her. He was upsettingly close before she noticed him. Neeshka, who'd always known where everyone was, almost before they did, hadn't even seen him walking toward her. And when she did notice him, and look up... she cringed. It was very slight, almost too slight for him to see, but he did see, and it was unmistakable. He hesitated, and then sat down. Near, but (he hoped) not too near.

"Are you alright?"

A small shrug, and she went back to staring into nothingness. Danno took a deep breath. "I am so sorry. Please... I... we came as fast as we could. We didn't even know where you were. Can... can you forgive me?" That got a reaction. A sudden, startled look. Eyes wide. Then she glanced away, as if unable to look at him.

"It's ok. I knew you'd come. I knew you wouldn't leave me there. I mean, you promised, right? To protect me? And you keep your promises. Even crazy ones."

Danno honestly didn't know how to react. Her words said one thing, but her voice, her manner, said another. Then, in a sudden rush of words, horribly, all became clear.

"He looked like you. All the time he was torturing me. He made himself look like you. Trying to make me hate you. Even before the... the binding spell."

Danno truly thought, for a moment, that he'd vomit. He swallowed hard, swallowed acid. "He wasn't me, though. I'd never do that. Not to you, not to anyone."

A pause, and then, in a tiny voice, she said, "You killed Qara."

Danno realised that he had to choose his next words with absolute care. He didn't try protesting that it had been Khelgar and Casavir who'd actually done the deed, on the other side of an impenetrable barrier. He didn't try arguing that she deserved it. Instead, with all the sincerity he could muster, he said, "I didn't want to. I would have spared her, gladly, if only she'd stopped fighting. If only she'd stopped attacking us, even for a moment. But she didn't. She chose to join Garius freely, and she fought us as hard as she could. We... I couldn't let her kill us. I couldn't let her kill you. And I would never, never have tortured her. No matter what."

Neeshka didn't respond, but after a while, she edged a little closer to him. Then sighed. "We're going to die down here, aren't we?"

He looked across at the futile discussion over by the portal. Now it was Ammon's harsh, contemptuous voice that was going over old ground, punctuated by Sand's sharp little barbs of sarcastic agreement and praise.

"Oh, well now it's all so clear. Thank you so much for opening our eyes. I can't imagine how we didn't see it before. Unless it is, perhaps, that your theory is total nonsense. What you fail to realise is..." And now Sand was off, his whiny didactic tones wandering mosquito like through the air.

Danno sighed in turn. "Yes. Yes, I'm afraid we are. And if thirst and hunger don't get us, then Sand will annoy us to death."

A snort of, not quite laughter, but at least bitter humour.

"But at least we saved the world." Continued Danno. "No-one and nothing can take that away from us. Quite something to take into the afterlife. Not many heroes can say that."

"The whole world? D'ya reckon?"

"Oh, absolutely. No way the King of Shadows would have stopped with the Mere, or Neverwinter, or even Faerun. After all, anything that wasn't Illefarn, that wasn't his perfect ideal of Illefarn, was a threat. No, I reckon we can hold our heads high in any afterlife we go to, and know we're among the greatest of the greats."

Neeshka shifted, sitting up straighter, starting to look more alive. "But it was you really" she said. "I mean, we'd never've done it without you."

Danno could spot a hidden plea like that a mile off. Sometimes.

"It was us. All of us. I'd have died a thousand times over if it wasn't for all of you. And you... I have never seen such courage and strength. Never! When you defied Garius, when you fought the power of Illefarn to fight alongside us... You inspired me Neeshka. I think... I might have given up without you, without your strength and courage.

"And it was good, wasn't it? When Garius was grovelling on the floor, trying to stand up, and that golem just kept smashing him back down. And I tell you, I didn't think it was possible to put arrows where you did. In both his eyes. And his knees! That was just magnificent!"

Now Neeshka was sitting bolt upright, her eyes shining and her tail lashing with excitement as she re-lived the fight in her imagination, through Danno's eyes. Danno's heart rose, just seeing her looking like her old self. Until a shadow crossed her face, a look of doubt. She looked at him earnestly and said, "You will build it, won't you?"

"Build... build what?"

"A crypt. For me."

He stared at her, in horror. _Oh gods. Oh by all the gods, she's gone insane. _Then a memory, of a conversation that seemed to have taken place a thousand years before.

_And if you were laid to rest, I would not want anybody robbing your crypt, Neeshka. Please understand._

_You'd build me a crypt? Wow. Those tombs are so beautiful, that'd be a great place to sleep when I'm dead._

He took a deep breath.

"Of course I will. There's plenty of stone here, after all. And I promise, if someone does come in here looting, it'll be the rest of us they rob. Not you." Then, in a lighter tone, "I'll make sure Casavir has all the really crappy stuff. Maybe they'll break bits off in frustration."

Neeshka sniggered. Danno glanced over at the bad-tempered trio by the portal. Voices were being raised, and if he didn't do something they really might not have to wait for hunger or thirst to finish them off.

"Look, Neeshka, I think Sand's starting to panic. I'd better go over and let him be condescending at me, it always calms him down. Tell you what, why don't you tell Khelgar what sort of crypt you want?"

"Awww! Not Stumpy!"

"Well, he is a dwarf. If anybody can make a good crypt out of this rubble, it will be him. Unless you just want some pile of rocks."

Neeshka pouted and looked sulky, but perversely cheerful as well. Danno stood again, and headed for the portal. The argument was starting to sound serious, and the others were now staring openly. And casting nervous glances towards him. _Of course, don't any of you bother trying to calm things down, just leave it all to yours truly, don't lift a finger yourselves._

Almost as if he'd heard Danno's petulant thought, Khelgar set his face in a determined expression and started toward the three. Casavir swore softly, possibly at the thought of the blunt and tactless dwarf trying to act as peacemaker, and Elanee scrambled hastily to her feet, moving to intercept Khelgar.

"Khelgar," Danno said quickly, "could I have a word with you?"

The dwarf hesitated. "Laddie," he said softly, "if one of them throws a fireball..." He glanced significantly up at the threatening stonework above.

Danno cleared his throat loudly, and clapped his hands briskly. It was enough to halt the escalating row, for the moment at least. To Khelgar, quietly, he said "Please talk to Neeshka. I'm worried about her. After what she's been through..."

Khelgar threw a quick, guilty glance her way.

"And humour her, please."

Khelgar sagged. "You're a hard man. That tiefling's a fine lass, but damned if she doesn't get on my nerves."

He trudged over to Neeshka as if he was going to his own execution, and Danno couldn't help a quick grin at the thought of how he'd react to her bizarre request. Perhaps a few sparks would help her forget what had been done to her... and with that thought Danno himself was cast back into gloom.

Elanee came forward, with Grobnar tagging along behind her. When she opened her mouth to speak, Danno gave her a quick, warning stare, and she subsided. Casavir, mercifully, said nothing, though he stood there looking sombre and portentous, which was irritating enough.

Danno sighed, and addressed himself to Sand, Zhjaeve and Ammon. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. But without all of your experience and study, I don't think I was contributing much anyway. Have you made any progress?" Sand, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed and awkward.

"Well, no. Without the Tome of Iltkazar we have no way of forming our own portal..."

"And as I keep telling you, we don't _need_ our own portal" Ammon interrupted. "This portal is intact. All we need to do is to provide it with power, and open it."

"And how do we do that?" Sand asked wearily. "Even if we knew the key to opening it, _or_" he hurried on, forestalling Ammon's retort "we could deduce it, how are we to power the portal? Bombard it with fireballs? Speaking for myself, I would _rather_ leave that experiment until we are desperate."

"We have never needed to provide power to the portals before" Elanee commented quietly. "Is it truly so different now?"

Zhjaeve addressed herself to Elanee, turning away from Sand and Ammon, and Danno got the impression that she had decided that there was nothing to be gained from speaking to them.

"Know that the power of Illefarn is exhausted. The King of Shadows had turned most of his strength toward trying to sustain all the magics of Illefarn against the depredations of time. Had he not done so, I fear we would never have bested him. Now that he is gone, all that Illefarn made fails. Including the portals."

There was a sombre silence among them, disturbed by the sound of Neeshka saying, excitedly "... and Devas, with carved wings..."

"Lass, how d'ye suppose I would carve Devas' wings? With me fingernails? Argh, why am I even talkin' about this? It's madness!"

"But Danno promised!"

"Alright, alright, calm down. Alright, Devas then..."

Elanee frowned. "What _is_ the horned one speaking of?"

"She has a name" Danno said flatly. "Please use it. And she is telling Khelgar what sort of tomb she wants."

"Oh how _very_ practical" said Sand. "In the circumstances. Do you think Khelgar is taking commissions, maybe? I think I would _quite_ like something in pale lilac, myself." Danno honestly couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic.

Ammon let out a hard bark of laughter. "So that's it, is it? We abandon any attempt at actually escaping this tomb, and spend our last hours building yet more tombs. Well hear me, Knight Captain. I haven't fought so hard or lived so long to just give up and die now!"

"Perhaps it is our destiny to end here." Casavir spoke as if pondering out loud. "Surely it is the fate of animals to fight to the bitter end against their deaths, while only thinking creatures can prepare themselves to die with dignity."

Ammon bristled, but it was Elanee who abruptly turned on Casavir. "And have you learned nothing during our travels!? Do you still imagine that the beasts have no dignity, no grace in the face of death? How can you be so arrogant! I was sorely misled when I thought that paladins were supposed to be humble."

It was one of those rare occasions when Danno wanted to hug Elanee, and cheer her on. Instead he settled for a grin, and a friendly touch on her arm.

"I agree with Ammon" he said. "We can't, and won't, give up. But let's fight the problem, not each other." Then, in a quieter voice, "Neeshka is coping as best she can. She's been through worse than any of us. Far worse. Just give her a little time." He looked around at them, one at a time, willing them to relax.

After a few moments Casavir turned to Elanee and said "I apologise. I only thought to cool tempers, and perhaps bring a measure of calm to troubled hearts. It seems I erred. Will you forgive my foolish words?"

"I... of course. Perhaps I did over-react. A little."

Ammon made a sound of irritable disgust, and Grobnar, uncharacteristically quiet until now, beamed delightedly.

"Oh how wonderful! I always think there's nothing better than friends making up after an argument. Unless it's friends not having an argument in the first place, but that almost never happens, so it's hardly worth considering."

"Well, judging by this little group, friends rarely do anything but argue" Danno commented wryly.

"Oh, but of course" Grobnar said happily. "Why my cousin Wimble and his wife Dotty loved each other so much, they never stopped arguing at all. Even when they were haunting the florists after that dreadful daffodil disaster, they kept on arguing. After all, if you don't care what someone thinks, then why would you argue with them? And who cares more than friends? Except for family, of course. And pets. And sometimes rampaging Ogres, but that's another story."

The party quietly absorbed this little pearl of Gnomehands family history.

"Know that there is much truth in what you say" murmured Zhjaeve.

"And delivered _so_ cogently, with hardly _any_ insane rambling at all."

Grobnar looked at Sand with surprise. "Oh, really? Well, I do pride myself on having a knack for choosing just the right words. It's why I became a bard in the first place. It's rather an amusing story, actually. You see..."

"But perhaps a story for another time" Danno interrupted, as Sand buried his face in his hands. "For now, I think we should concentrate on trying to open this song portal."

Grobnar fell silent, then turned and hurried away. _Damn_, thought Danno. _I just can't put a foot right, can I? _He shrugged, making a mental note to try and make it up to Grobnar later, and turned to Sand and Zhjaeve.

"I know, we might not be able to do anything with the portal. We probably won't. But at least there's something already there for us to try and work with. Making our own portal is a non-starter, I think you'll agree, Sand. Zhjaeve, I really don't think that any of us can learn to planeswalk, not in the time we have. And you can't create a portal or gate that we can all use?"

Zhjaeve shook her head. "Know that to travel the planes requires much strength, even for one. For many to travel, all must be planeswalkers, or must use an artefact of great power."

"Which we don't have" Danno hazarded.

"We do not."

"And you can't leave here and get help?"

For the first time that Danno could remember, Zhjaeve seemed to hesitate. Sand sighed, and Ammon scowled, but to Danno's great relief neither interrupted.

"It is certain that after much meditation I could travel elsewhere. However, It is not possible for me to _know_ what would await me at this precise location in any other plane."

"Ah. So you could end up in the middle of a battle. Or solid rock."

"Know that I have more skill than to make such an elementary error as that." Zhjaeve said, with some asperity. "But I may be much delayed by circumstances. And there is a more immediate danger in my travelling from here."

"The danger of being instantly crushed by falling rubble" Ammon growled.

"The sorcerer speaks truly" Zhjaeve almost sighed. "Know that to open such a gateway I must draw not only on my own power, but also on the power of my surroundings. There are some places which have such power that gateways may open even without the will of a planeswalker. And places from which it would tax the strongest to travel. And, with the King of Shadows gone, there is little power left here."

"Yes, quite" Sand broke in. "And I'm sure that even our glorious leader will have noticed what happened to the rest of this dungeon when the power keeping it intact was drained away."

Danno shuddered. "So we work on this portal, then. Ammon, Sand, I want you two to work on figuring out the key. Zhjaeve, Elanee and I will work out how to power it. Gently," Danno said to Sand, "I assure you."

"Oh, really, I'm sure all this is quite unnecessary!"

Danno turned slowly and stared at Grobnar. Who was looking... very strange indeed. Almost as if he'd had a religious revelation. And who seemed to be holding – nothing.

"Please, no" Sand almost moaned.

"What do you mean, Grobnar?" Danno dreaded hearing what he was sure Grobnar was going to say, but he couldn't help asking. It was like watching a horrible disaster unfolding. You didn't want to, but couldn't stop yourself.

"Why, the Wendersnaven's instrument, of course! Surely they gave us such a wonderful gift for exactly this moment. To open an ancient song portal! It's so obvious, I can't imagine why I didn't think of it earlier." And beaming happily, Grobnar lifted his hands and began making a most distressing, nasal humming.

"Please stop him" Sand pleaded, suddenly looking wild-eyed. "Or let me. I'm sure I still have a fireball or two I can cast, it's really no trouble to..."

Danno couldn't trust himself to speak. He just lifted a hand sharply, gesturing Sand to shut up. The horrible humming went on. Danno closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deeply, trying to unclench his jaw, and speak civilly to Grobnar, to ask him perhaps, if he would be so kind, to just SHUT THE HELLS UP... _no, keep calm Danno, remember that we're trying not to turn on each other murderously, not here, not yet..._

He was sure that everyone was staring at him. At their leader. Waiting to see how he'd handle this. But, he couldn't think what to do, what to say. He was starting to feel light-headed, swaying, as if he was being bawled out by Tarmas for some idiotic mistake in his lessons, and he just had to stand there looking straight ahead while wishing the ground would open up under him, and the sound of Grobnar's hum seemed to be coming from a long way away, and Danno could almost hear a choir of giggling voices joining in...

A sudden shriek pierced the air. Danno's eyes snapped open. He saw Neeshka, eyes wide, hurling herself at the shimmering curtain in the portal.

"Tiefling, dammit, wait!"

Khelgar charged after her. A stone, as large as Danno, dropped from above and struck the ground with a horrible thud, narrowly missing Sand. Everyone started shouting and running, Casavir was trying to gather up packs, pieces were flaking off the crumbling pillars, dust showered from the roof and turned the air to a choking fog, and then one bellowing voice roared above the chaos...

"CASSAVIR! YOUR MACE! DUMP THE REST! ELANEE, ZHJAEVE, THE STRONGEST SUMMONS YOU'VE GOT LEFT! _**EVEYBODY THROUGH NOW!!!**_"

Danno was distantly surprised to find that it was his voice. _I can't shout that loudly. I won't be able to speak for days, now._ He realised that Grobnar was still humming, standing quite still as everyone else shoved and stumbled through the impossibly open portal. His eyes were wide as the chamber emptied, and more stones fell, larger, faster... Danno bent down to croak in his ear, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, I won't leave you. We'll go through together."

He began urging Grobnar forward, skirting blocks of masonry, _why haven't we been crushed yet?_, trying to see the portal through the growing clouds of dust, seeing the others just vanishing, _a wolf a dire badger and one mage shield is that all we had left?_, looking down at Grobnar with his eyes bulging and face purple, _dammit he hasn't even taken a breath_, still hearing, somehow, the horrible sound he was making, even over the thudding and crashing of falling masonry, stepping through the portal...

To blazing sunlight, green fields, and grazing sheep.


	3. Sheep and beans

Their escape from the ruins of Illefarn was, even given their recent history, less straightforward than they might have hoped. At first it seemed a glorious deliverance, from clinging darkness and crushing ruin to sunlight and freedom. No moaning zombies, no snarling wolves, no charging orcs, trolls or ogres – just empty fields and startled sheep, blazing sunlight.

Danno stared about him, at first unable to believe it. _Are we... are we safe? Have we really escaped? Have... Oh gods. We have. We __**have!**_ For a few moments, no one said a word. Then the hot and drowsing air was shattered by hysterical whooping, wild laughter, fervent prayers of thanks, and desperate, gulping tears...

"Oh, please! I was _not_ weeping. The sunlight after that darkness simply made my eyes water. You can _hardly_ imagine that I..."

Neeshka sat up, a manic grin plastered across her face, and pointed at Sand accusingly. "You were sobbing! I heard you!"

"Well... well, in the circumstances a certain dignified display of emotion is _entirely_ understandable. At least I wasn't shrieking and rolling in the sheep turds - unlike _some_ I could mention."

"You know, I've always thought that sheep are a terribly inefficient way of making wool. All that shearing and grazing. I can't help feeling that some sort of mechanism, perhaps involving tree sap and nozzles, would work rather better."

Danno blinked at Grobnar in surprise. "Really? How would you stop the nozzles clogging?"

"Danno!" Neeshka rolled her eyes in mock despair.

"Well, how would he? Tarmas' glassware was always getting bunged up when he was distilling anything sticky."

"I really don't think that we want to hear about Grobnar's plans to overturn the whole of nature." Elanee spoke sternly, but was trying to suppress a smile as she did so.

"Oh come one. This is Grobnar! I'm sure a gnome who can open a portal like that, and _save all our lives_, could tell us a thing or two about keeping nozzles clear."

"Oh, well, I... don't quite see the connection myself. But I do have some fascinating ideas for using quicksilver to thin the sap."

Ammon, who had watched the others' reactions with a form of grim contempt, gave a grunt of impatient annoyance. "Suddenly, Koraboros' gentle ministrations don't seem so unappealing."

Once they had finished laughing and weeping with relief, and arguing over the rights of heroes to bore their companions insensible, they took stock of their surroundings.

Thin, parched soil, covered with thin, straggling grass. With thin, bony sheep huddled against a piecemeal hedge. Bundles of twigs and dead branches plugged gaps where the hedge had died. It was a hot, dry, poverty stricken meadow. Lightly wooded slopes rose above it, and equally shabby fields stretched down to a huddle of cottages and huts. _I don't recognise this_, Danno thought. _I don't think we're near Neverwinter any more. And... no sign of a portal. Where on Toril are we? _Looking round, he spotted a weather beaten man peering suspiciously at them from the other side of the field. The shepherd?

"Listen," he said, "I'm going to talk to that man, see if he can tell us where we are. Just wait here, would you all? I don't want to frighten him."

"I believe, from the climate, that we must be south" Elanee said. "Far south of Neverwinter."

"I expect you're right, but I'd like to know a bit more precisely than that."

He started walking toward the shepherd who, being a true hero, the equal in courage to any demon conquering knight, did not run screaming from the sudden appearance of these armed, armoured and hysterical lunatics, but stood his ground glowering. And clutching his crook with his knuckles going white.

A short and awkward conversation revealed that as well as being courageous, he was also courteous. No, he had never heard of Crossroads Keep. Nor Neverwinter. Would that be in foreign lands, then? His cousin Geralt might have heard of it, seeing as he was a wanderer. Travelled further than anyone else from the village, had Geralt. Once went all the way to Keshla, he did. And brought back stories of distant Athkatla that the caravanners told him, if one can believe the tales such men tell. Lodgings? Well, for sure someone in the village could put them up, though food was hard to come by right now, what with the drought. Very hard. Now come to think of it, there may not be many who could spare food for nine strangers. Not many at all. Perhaps not any. Gold would help, for when the wool merchants came through, they would have spare food to sell but the price was always wicked high. Did the gentlemen and ladies have gold?

Danno had a sudden and disturbing mental image of Casavir trying to gather up packs, and his own voice yelling _DUMP THE REST!_ His shoulders slumped in weary despair. _Oh gods and demons, the gold_. He trudged his way back across the field to the others. He smiled nervously.

"Err... does anyone have any money?" Neeshka went pale, and her hand flew to where she usually kept their bag of holding. Gone now. _Bad show Garius, petty thieving was beneath you, surely._

The others looked blank for a moment, then Sand enquired sweetly, "Money? Now why would we have any money? I'm sure we all know that the honest and astute Knight Captain insists on handling _all_ our mercantile transactions."

Danno sighed. "That's not fair. It's not as if I demanded you hand over every copper coin and silver bit. And I didn't exactly set a guard on our funds. I know Khelgar must have drunk half a suit of armour just on his own! No offence meant, Khelgar."

"None taken lad. I'm man enough to admit I've been off my drink a wee bit lately. Ah, time was I could have drunk a whole armour suit's worth of ale in less time than we've been travelling together. But I just don't seem to have the head for it that I used to."

"That's not what I... oh, never mind."

A quick search of purses and pockets revealed a grand total of three gold pieces and eight assorted coppers of various kingdoms. Just enough to buy a good meal for two in a really cheap inn. Not enough to buy food for nine from villagers with barely enough for themselves, and certainly not from hard headed merchants who knew they could gouge the villagers for three times the food's true value.

Danno shook his head miserably. "I'm really sorry, all of you. You don't deserve this, not after all you've done. But not only have we ended up... I think we're south of Amn... but it looks like we'll have to work for our suppers."

"I do not believe we need fear honest labour" said Casavir. "We have tested our mettle in the fire and not been found wanting. It will be no matter to..." Neeshka kicked him hard in the ankle.

"Speak for yourself, holy boy!" she spat. "Danno, I can get us some food, easy." She looked sidelong at the huddle of dwellings. "An hour, tops. Just let me..."

"Would you steal from these poor folk?" Elanee demanded. "Can't you see how little they have? This is a hard land, and these people have neither the wit nor the knowledge to live with it, but foolishly fight against it. Still, I would not see them starve for their failings."

Neeshka bristled angrily. "Hells, they'd have died soon anyway if we hadn't killed the King of Shadows."

Danno was dismayed at what she said, and even more dismayed that it was his own words of comfort underground that had turned her thoughts this way. But he could hear the faint tremble in her voice, and see the shine of almost-tears in her eyes. _She's tired, hurt and humiliated. She just wants to be safe and rested, and looked after. Have her sacrifice recognised. She'll kill me if I say any of that. _

Ammon snorted. "Quite right, girl. Those mud-grubbing peasants owe us a greater debt than their feeble minds can comprehend. I say we take what we need. By force if necessary."

"You foul monster!" Casavir hissed through clenched teeth, seething with rage. His hand dropped to the haft of his mace, and Khelgar moved to stand beside him, staring narrow-eyed at the sorcerer.

_Oh gods, they're losing it! It's all been too much..._ "Calm down, Casavir!" Danno snapped. Then he fixed Ammon with a hard stare. "Tell me, Ammon, have you meditated much since that last fight? Got many spells left? I know I'm all tapped out." A lie, that. His short sleep had restored a few of his weaker spells.

"Remember, we don't _need_ you any more," he continued, speaking softly, menacingly. "Your part of the ritual? Irrelevant. And you still have Shandra to answer for. _And_ Melia. _**And**_ Tavorick. _**AND**_ the girls at the Moonstone Mask. And gods only know how many others you murdered in your arrogance and cruelty. Right now I don't believe you have a spell worth casting, and I'm inclined to think that letting Casavir smash your skull in would be highly appropriate."

His voice was rising now, venomous and hate-filled.

"But we're supposed to be better than that. So we won't kill you, here and now. You'll come back to Neverwinter to answer for your crimes. Or you'll slip away some dark night, go on the run, and wait for the other demons Shandra freed to catch up with you." He was almost shouting now, suddenly unable to control his own temper. "Frankly, I don't care whether you die in a hangman's noose or under a demon's claws, but right now you are helpless, and _you_ need _us_, and you will NOT TRY MY PATIENCE!"

Silence.

Not a sound, not a breath from anybody. He stared at Ammon, nothing else in the whole world, just Ammon. Ammon Jerro, who stood trembling, his fists bunched, his face knotted with rage and helpless frustration. He raised a hand, as if to cast. Paused. Lifted it and ran it, trembling, across his shaved scalp. He seemed, suddenly, weary. Weary and unsure. He turned, without a word, and simply stood, staring out across the parched fields and thin, scrubby woods.

Danno tried to calm his own trembling. _That's right, you self-righteous murderer. Noose or demons, try and worm your way out of _that_ choice_. He turned to Neeshka, who looked as if she was half inclined to run for her life. He spoke softly.

"Yes, Neeshka, we are owed for what we've done, and you've paid more than any of us. And at Crossroads Keep there's... there's a dragon's hoard with your name on it. But, for tonight, I just want walls around me, something soft to sleep on, and to be surrounded by people who think well of me. I don't want to be sleeping under a hedge somewhere with people hunting me as a thief. So we'll go to the village, we'll earn our night's rest, and then we'll set off home. Ok?"

Neeshka stared at him, reminding him slightly of a rabbit staring at a fox. Then she nodded, once. He looked round at the others. "Does anyone have a problem with that?"

Elanee looked as if she had been hit with a paralysis spell. _Didn't think I had it in me, did you? Nor did I_. Casavir seemed to be torn between approval and disgust. _Poor Casavir_, Danno thought. _You'd fight to the death to defend Ammon from demons, even though he's a monster who brought it on himself. And that's why you ended up trying to die in Old Owl Well, because you can't reconcile your ideals with the real world. Imbecile._

Khelgar was grinning fiercely, and Zhjaeve was nodding approvingly, while Sand regarded Danno with a wary and (grudgingly) respectful surprise. Grobnar, though, was... not cringing, as he had expected. He was gazing at Danno as if in raptures. Danno was quite taken aback, until he realized that Grobnar's lips were moving silently, repeating Danno's own words. No, not repeating – reciting. Danno had just provided Grobnar with another stanza in the grand epic that churned within the little gnome's enormous imagination.

* * *

As it turned out, earning the trust and hospitality of the villagers was almost laughably easy. A few good quality healing potions (_those_ weren't left stuffed into packs, not in the middle of a fight) to ease a fever and some minor hurts – just enough to let a couple of farmers and a mother return to the steady labour of life, instead of being burdens on their families. Elanee showed the shepherd they first met which local herb could ease a cough in their flocks, and which was making the lambs sickly. And Khelgar told a bean farmer how a few rows of stones dumped on his field would help hold water and soil. 

"Khelgar! I never had you figured for a farmer!"

"Me, a farmer? Curse the thought! But dwarves have to eat too, lad, and mountain soil is poor thin stuff. I'd have to have gone about deaf and blind not to hear about that trick. And the grand thing about it is, it's a lot quicker and easier than digging terraces. Leaves more time for the important things, like drinking and fighting!"

"Ah. Of course."

So they ate as dusk fell, and candles and lamps were lit. Boring food, beans and tired, stale bread, but sufficient. And they bedded down in the village's only building large enough to be called a house; in two rooms, to avoid scandalising their hosts, who were rather upset at the thought of unmarried men and women sharing a room at night. Danno found that rather touching, as well as being ludicrous. After all, what did they think would happen? Some sort of nine way interspecies orgy? A bizarre and terrible image of Zhjaeve and Grobnar together popped into his head,

_Know that I wish you to go deeper._

_I don't think I can! Unless I use some sort of device..._

and caused him to choke violently on his supper, very nearly causing the death that demons, revenants, dragons and the King of Shadows himself had failed to achieve.

Once they had settled to sleep, He lay for a while, feeling... uneasy? Expectant? _Gods, what's the matter with me?_ He closed his eyes, tried to _will_ sleep to come. Instead, he felt more wakeful than ever, his thoughts racing uselessly, worrying fretfully at idiocies, replaying his confrontation with Ammon over and over...

_Hells, why did I snap like that? That isn't like me, I'm supposed to be the steady one, the planner, the decision maker. Not ranting and threatening. What's got into me? Why can't I... oh gods, why can't I sleep?_

How long had it been since he'd last slept, anyway? At least two days, surely. Maybe even three. Damn, had it really been such a short time since they'd teleported from the keep? It seemed far longer. Neeshka's disappearance, battling through the Illefarn ruins, the fight with the revenants, the battle with Garius, with the King of Shadows, the flight through the collapsing dungeons... it seemed as if it had taken weeks, not days. And in all that time, he'd had two short naps, and a couple of periods of meditation to renew his spells. He should be exhausted, he should be crying out for sleep. And he was. But still he felt restless.

He lay, listening. Khelgar snoring softly; Casavir whispering his night prayers, barely more than a movement of his lips; Grobnar just starting to hum in his sleep. Danno turned over, and looked across to Ammon. Asleep? Watching? In the soft light that filled the room (for none of them felt able to sleep in the dark, not any more) Danno saw a hint of dampness around Ammon's eyes. His hand fisted, and his lips moved – _Shandra_. Asleep, then. He'd never betray such open grief, such weakness, while awake; there would always be the edge of anger and the armour of aggression.

Danno watched him for a while, pondering. _Should I really force him to face trial in Neverwinter? He would hang, no doubt about it. Yet he does feel grief, and regret. For Shandra. For his kin, his granddaughter. Not for all the others, the girls at the Moonstone Mask... damn, I don't even know their names. But he wouldn't even care that he doesn't know. And he'd have murdered me for the shard in me without hesitating. Murdered the others too, just for being inconvenient._

_Yes. A trial and an execution. He deserves it. Just because he's human, just because he has feelings, doesn't make him a good man. He deserves to die. I've never killed anyone who wasn't attacking me. Have I? Yes, Ghellu. He was ready to deal. No, his price was to murder Ralidor – or was that self defence? Ralidor had already asked me to kill him. Am I any better than Ammon? I've murdered, just to avoid a different fight. Taking Ammon back to Neverwinter will be another murder. I don't know, I can't decide... I'll have to arrange a watch over Ammon from now on. Once he's recovered his spells, he'll be dangerous. And he won't forget what I said today. Oh, hells hells hells, doesn't it ever stop? I want to rest, stop fighting and planning and organising and taking responsibility. I'm twenty-two years old, how did I get to be a Knight? The Captain of a Keep? Leader of these people? It's madness, just... stupid. Why can't I get to sleep?_

The air in the parlour-room where they lay was hot and stale. Too much like being underground, that was it. Too many snatched watches in dungeons, trying to rest, nerves stretched, waiting for some horror to attack, unable to even risk sleep in the Illefarn ruins. Even with the shutters wide open, there wasn't a hint of a breeze. Danno got up quietly, and went into the little house's kitchen. He was vaguely surprised to find Sand there, reading through his spell-book and making notes.

"Sand, can't you sleep?"

"Hmm? Oh, I need little sleep. A couple of hours a night will suffice for me. And I've been pondering some _particularly_ tricky spells which I might just have worked out how to cast safely. So I thought..."

"You haven't slept for three days. Even you must be exhausted. Can't the spells wait?"

"Yes, well... if you really must know, I'm not especially eager to sleep just yet. Bad dreams, you see. Rather like yourself, I would imagine."

Danno laughed, soft and bitter. "Sand, I've been having screaming nightmares ever since we went to West Harbor from Arvahn. I... I failed them, you see. The only reason I ever brought that first shard to Neverwinter was to try and keep them safe. Everybody..."

_Everybody I ever knew in my whole life was there. Friends, enemies, neighbours... everybody. And they died anyway. Died horribly. Died..._

The words wouldn't come. He sat, staring at his hands, wanting to to say it, to just let it all flood out... the grief, the guilt, the horrible aching loss. He felt the tremble in his hands, his throat closing, his heart pounding with the _need_ to speak. He thought... he thought of all the times he'd wanted to talk to Daeghun, to tell him how lonely he was, how inadequate he felt. He remembered the silence between them, the reserve, the _habit_ of isolation.

He'd never spoken to Daeghun, never. Never tried to break through the walls between them. Never had the courage. He opened his mouth to speak, to speak _now_ – and closed it. He couldn't. He simply couldn't. Not yet, not after so many years of quiet reserve and hidden feelings.

Finally, defeated, he sighed. "I've got used to bad dreams by now."

Sand said nothing for a while, then, awkwardly, reached out and patted Danno's shoulder.

"I suppose it's little consolation, but for what it's worth, I do not think you failed. Some things... are more terrible than any man should be expected to face. And though you may have lost those most dear to you, be assured that you did more than any of them could, or would, have asked of you." He paused, coughed uncomfortably, and straitened up briskly.

"Although I'm sure that your _charming_ and open-hearted foster father would be quick to find fault with, oh, I don't know, the way you tie your shoelaces, or your lamentable hairstyle. After all, _some_ people will criticise the smallest things. I feel sure it is an attempt to compensate for their own insecurities." He looked straight at Danno and, just perceptibly, winked.

"And on that note, I shall bid you goodnight, as I go to wrestle with my own tiresome night-time imaginings."

Danno watched dumbstruck as Sand rose to leave. _Was he just making fun of himself? No, surely not. Not Sand... He was! Well. Truly an age of miracles_. Abruptly, absurd though it was, he started feeling more cheerful than he had for some time. Sand paused by the door, and sighed.

"I'm quite certain that my dreams will be plagued by Grobnar opening portals all over the place." He shuddered delicately. "Such an affront to reason and good sense! Really, I don't know how I cope."

"Ah, cheer up, it's not all that unreasonable. They are called 'song portals' for a reason. Perhaps Grobnar just stumbled on the notes that opened it by accident."

"Well, yes, possibly. If we accept the inevitable conclusion, that the song portal's makers were _entirely_ tone deaf."

"Or maybe that portal was one opened by a state of mind. Maybe all that was needed for it to open was the certain belief that it _would_ open."

Sand tilted his head on one side, considering. "Hmm. Well, well. I do believe you've come up with rather a fascinating idea for once. I shall certainly have to consider this quite seriously."

Danno couldn't help himself. Grinning, he said, "But most likely, I think the Wendersnaven took pity on their new gnomic high priest, and in their infinite wisdom and eternal kindness they opened the portal for him."

"Yes, thank you" Sand said irritably. "Grobnar opening portals like a crazed thing was a nightmare I could have coped with. Grobnar as the high priest of a deranged fantasy? I think I may just die in my sleep." He stepped smartly into the parlour, and closed the door pointedly.

Danno sat a while longer, his mind wandering over the past and the future, until at length he began to nod. Then, he dragged himself back into the hot, airless little room, lay down, and was soon asleep.

He never even heard the muffled sobbing from the upstairs room that Zhjaeve, Elanee and Neeshka shared.


	4. Betrayal

He crouched in a foetid little courtyard, lost in the slums. He'd lost the others, separated in the fighting, and now their attackers were hunting him. He could hear their angry, eager shouts as they called back and forth. They were organised, experienced, quartering the tangled slums quickly and efficiently. And he was cornered.

_Should I move? Make a run for it? Try and find the others?_ His breath was rasping through his throat, his lungs labouring, his heart hammering. _No way, no way I can run, not outrun them. Magic? Can I use magic?_ A voice, hard and merciless, like boulders thudding into the ground, spoke from the black and starless sky.

YOU USE MAGIC, THEY DRAG YOU OFF TO THE ASYLUM. A BAD PLACE. VERY BAD.

_No, no magic. Hide quietly, hope they miss me._ He looked furtively around. The pale, corpse-light glow of their magical items illuminated the chamber. _How can I hide here? There's no cover, nowhere to run, no-one to help me. _Grobnar stood by the useless portal, merrily blowing raspberries at it.

Slowly, out of the shadows, his pursuers appeared. Grinning, eager, viciously cruel. _Garius, you were a rank amateur. These men are professionally vile._ He stood, surrounded, clutching his useless spell book, holding it in front of him like a joke of a shield. Neeshka was among them, a long jagged knife in each hand, a look of cold anger on her face.

And as the mob closed in, cudgels and blades rising to strike, Ammon looked on from the darkest shadows with grim satisfaction.

---

Danno woke, and immediately regretted it. His head hurt like a three-day drunk's hangover, and every bone in his body felt broken. He groaned piteously.

"He's awake!" Neeshka, sounding both worried and relieved. As far as was possible through the pain, Danno felt vaguely surprised. Neeshka had been fairly unhappy with him lately.

"How are ya?" Odd, she really sounded concerned.

"Like..." He winced, swallowed painfully, and tried again in a whisper. "Like I've had the... shit beaten out of me."

"Aye, that's about the shape of it lad. They got you trapped in a courtyard. Gave you a right beating before Casavir and I got there. There were five of them! That's not a fight, it's a disgrace!"

"My dreams are... getting... way too literal." Danno was finding it harder to speak.

"What? Are you alright lad? How many fingers am I holding up."

He tried to open his eyes, then screwed them up again against the impossibly bright light in the room. _Eyelids aren't supposed to hurt when you close them. _"Don't care."

"I suppose that makes _some_ sort of sense. As much as he usually makes, anyway." Sand's voice. _Good old Sand, always ready and eager to add insult to injury. Hey, that's rather good. Must tell that one to Neeshka, she'd like it._

"Shut your mouth, Sand. Just... just shut it!" _Maybe not right now, she really doesn't sound in the mood. Is she crying? I wonder why._

"It's all right, I'm sure they'll be back soon. You'll see. They're sure to get back in time." _Want a bet, Grobnar? We weren't in time for Shandra. Sometimes help comes too late. Wait, who's in trouble? Not Elanee. Or Casavir, Neeshka wouldn't be upset about them. Ammon? Does she have a soft spot for Ammon? Well, well, who'd have thought it. Who'd have... very tired. Very..._

"Danno? Danno! Danno, wake up!" _Go away, voice, let me... let me..._

"I don't think he can hear you lass." _That's right. Can't hear you. Can't hear anything. Anything... 'cept thunder. Thunder of... thundering... footsteps..._

**_

* * *

_**They had headed for Athkatla, travelling along the local trade route. For the most part it was an uneventful journey, though their lack of funds was a constant worry. Around Neverwinter it had been much easier to collect coin. If nothing else, they had collected loot from those who attacked them or from fallen adventurers who had preceded them. And there were always those in need of help, who would express their gratitude in gold, silver or the occasional heirloom. 

But in this poverty stricken landscape there was no tradition of adventuring, and effectively no banditry. Bandits prey on those with coin or trade goods, or on those who can be sold into slavery. But the merchants only travelled this region a couple of times a year, for harvest or shearing, and they travelled well armed and with tough guards. And even the most desperate slavers would turn their noses up at the sickly, ill-nourished specimens that would fall prey to bandits. Those farmers and herders who were fit and strong were also hard and resourceful, and would give any part-time bandit pause for thought.

And so, in the list of troubles that plagued those who scratched a living from the arid landscape, banditry took a back seat to drought, disease (of both man and beast), and accident. Even domestic disputes caused more death and injury than the rare attacks by those few people with more aggression than good sense.

As a result, the travellers were effectively reduced to begging for shelter and food. Their meagre supply of potions was stretched ever further as they bartered for what they couldn't beg. Their magical rings and amulets were, for all intents and purposes, valueless; the locals had no use for them, and the few traders they encountered couldn't afford a hundredth of their value.

"And what good will they do us?" Sand had asked sharply, as they left a shabby little tinker's tent empty handed. "While I'm sure _you're_ partial to a nice mithril-ring ragout, I _really_ don't think my teeth are up to the job."

"I suppose you think we should throw away a few hundred gold pieces on one mouldy lump of bread? Because that's what we'd get. And when we do reach a city, still half-starved and beggars as well, will you be happy then? No. We trade these things when it'll do us some good, not otherwise."

Even as he spoke, Danno wondered if he was being entirely honest with Sand or himself. The truth was, he didn't want to lose anything that had come out of Illefarn with them. They'd discarded so much so easily. He really missed his collection of wands, potions and artefacts; they'd felt like... like an insurance. A buffer against the unexpected.

Lack of funds hadn't been the only worry. Ammon was top of the list. He seemed to have become quieter, more withdrawn; listless, even. He didn't bother expressing his scorn, nor did he bridle at any slurs (intended or imagined) against him. He had simply trudged through the day, slept at night, and in the evenings sat silently staring into the flames of their little camp-fire. Danno didn't believe for one moment that he was morbidly contemplating the future, or was resigned to his fate. He remembered Ammon's words underground:

_I haven't fought so hard or lived so long to just give up and die now!_

Danno was convinced he was plotting some terrible act of defiance against them, and the justice of Neverwinter. Almost by unspoken agreement, Ammon was never asked to stand watch at night.

There had also been Neeshka. Or perhaps that should have been; Neeshka and Danno. Because, as they travelled, Danno had still felt compelled to try and help those they met who were in trouble, or in need. Neeshka, as ever, hated this. Almost worse for her than Danno never demanding payment, was there never being the slightest chance of payment. She swung between sulks and angry outbursts, and didn't even have the excitement of triumphing over danger to distract her. The only cheer was that Elanee actually seemed to have become tolerant of Neeshka, even supportive.

Then, just as the countryside started to look richer, just as Athkatla revealed itself as a smear on the horizon, Zhjaeve had made her announcement.

"You're leaving?!"

"Indeed."

"But... but why? I... I mean, why now?"

"You no longer need my aid. You have reached a city, where you can rest in safety. A port, from whence you may travel to your homes. Know that I have a duty to my people. The knowledge I must bring them, of the Githyanki, and of the King of Shadows' destruction, is of great importance.

"The Githyanki will soon be aware of his destruction. No longer fearing his assault against them, they will turn their eyes toward the Githzerai with greater confidence than for many ages past. Greater confidence, and greater aggression. My people must _know_ of this, and be prepared, lest confidence and aggression turn to war.

"Know that I have already spent more time in your company than my people will think to have been wise. I will remain no longer."

Danno stared helplessly at her. He wanted to say... something. Anything! But the words that clamoured to be spoken were _Don't go! We need you! I want you to stay!_ He knew that was unfair, that she had helped them... helped him so much already, and as she said, this wasn't her world and they weren't her people. But he was so used to her calm confidence (so different from Ammon's hard certainty), her knowledge and her compassion – he didn't want to lose her.

As he struggled to find the words, to bring himself to say a graceful farewell, Khelgar cleared his throat.

"Well, I never reckoned much to your sort. Never heard any good of outsiders. But you're alright, for all you're a skinny beanpole of a lass. And... well, I suppose you've not been bad in a fight either."

"You have been a most loyal companion, and our prayers go with you." Casavir inclined his head slightly, formal and reserved, but smiling gently. Elanee hurried forward and briefly embraced Zhjaeve.

"Thank you. May Sylvanus look kindly on you, wherever your paths take you."

Zhjaeve brushed her fingers against Elanee's cheek. "Know that this world has great beauty beyond your beloved Mere, and our efforts have preserved it from the darkness. May what has been saved ease your grief." Elanee nodded, awkwardly.

"Oh, well, I suppose this is... goodbye, then." Grobnar shuffled his feet, and hummed a couple of tuneless notes. "No, I... I can't think of the right song just now. Stupid, really, I'm sure it's right there on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't quite..." He stared at the ground, embarrassed, then jumped as if startled. "Oh my! Of course, how stupid of me!" Rummaging in a pocket he pulled out a small hide-bound book, riffled through it, and with immense care tore out a couple of pages. Smiling happily he thrust them into Zhjaeve's hand. "There! One of my songs, so you can sing it whenever you want!" He stood on tiptoe and said confidentially "It's all about you!"

Zhjaeve hesitated, then briefly rested a hand on the little Gnomes shoulder. "Know that I shall treasure it always." Grobnar beamed.

"Ah. Well, _delightful_ as protracted and painful farewells are, I think I shall forgo the pleasure and simply say – goodbye. I can't in all honesty say that I have enjoyed our time together. Rather too much death and destruction, all in all. But I _suppose_ we have achieved something worthwhile." Sand hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say more, then shook his head and remained silent.

Danno closed his eyes briefly. _She's going. Grow up and face the fact. You can't keep your friends with you for ever._ "Goodbye Zhjaeve. Thank you. Thank you for showing me what to do. For helping me do it." Neeshka rolled her eyes impatiently, her tail flicking and twisting.

Ammon remained silent, staring at Zhjaeve from beneath lowered brows.

Zhjaeve bowed to the companions, and without further ceremony opened a gateway. She stepped through, and Danno could see a horrible, swirling nothingness steady around her into... green grass underfoot, a thin copse of young birch trees around her. She gazed at the ground, and brushed her foot over the grass, then reached out and touched a tree. She turned back to them, and Danno realized that under her veil she was smiling broadly. It was the first and only time he had ever seen her smile.

"I have no doubt that my actions have been wise. Be well, my friends."

And then the gateway closed, and she was gone.

It was Neeshka who broke the long silence. "Hmph. Finally! Y'know, I thought she'd _never_ leave."

Casavir frowned. "Losing a valued colleague is no cause for rejoicing. Zhjaeve deserves our respect."

"Yeah, sure, like I'm sure you _really_ respected her going around 'knowing' at us all the time. Sheesh!"

Elanee frowned irritably at Neeshka. "Casavir is right, you have no..."

"Let's just _leave_ it, shall we?" Danno turned and looked at the distant city on the horizon. "Let's not get into a fight over her, not now she's gone. We've got a lot of walking to do if we want to get to Athkatla before night."

Slowly, they got underway, speaking little – except for Neeshka, who's spirits had been quite lifted by the departure of Zhjaeve. _Huh. She always hated it when another woman joined the group. If Elanee leaves she'll be cheerful for days._

"Hey, Danno." She sidled up close to him. "Y'know, Athkatla's real big I hear, even bigger than Waterdeep. Reckon you'll need _me_ to show you the ropes."

He sighed. "I'm sure you'll be invaluable, Neeshka."

They walked steadily for the rest of the day, dusty dirt tracks giving way to cobbled then paved roads, and reached the sprawling city of Athkatla in the early evening. As they stepped through the gates, relief buoying their spirits and putting a spring in their weary steps, the gate guards took one look at them and moved to block their way.

"Welcome to Athkatla Sirs, Ladies. Kindly note that the practice of all arcane magic is forbidden within the city. Failure to observe this law is punished by incarceration in the Asylum, release is only at the discretion of the Cowled Wizards."

Danno stared open-mouthed at the guard. "What did you say?"

"Welcome to Athkatla Sirs, Ladies. Kindly note that the practice of all arcane magic is forbidden within the city..."

"No, wait a moment! Are you telling me that wizards aren't allowed in the city?"

"Of course not sir. Just that no wizard is allowed to practice magic. Unless authorised by the Cowled Wizards."

"That... that's ridiculous! What kind of a city bans wizardry?!"

"This kind. Sir." The guard scowled.

"You mentioned incarceration" Sand commented. "Might you perhaps elaborate? In detail, if you'd be so kind."

"Alright. If you use magic, it _will_ be detected. You _will_ be apprehended. You _will_ immediately be transported to the Asylum for Magical Deviants, for study and treatment."

"Oh my," murmured Grobnar. "That doesn't sound at all pleasant."

"Oh, it isn't." The guard grinned wolfishly. "They do say that no-one has been successfully cured. Or released. You can hear the patients screaming, sometimes, when the wind's in the right direction."

"But... you said that if we use magic we _will_ be taken there. But we're not insane!"

"Sir, anyone who uses magic within the city without authorisation is insane. Knowing what happens to them, they'd have to be. It's obvious, really."

"Surely," Elanee said, "in self defence..."

"No. There are no exceptions, Madam. Um. Except for clerics. Holy magic is frowned upon, but it isn't actually banned. As such. Just keep it off the streets, alright?" This last was addressed with a glare at Casavir, who was resting a hand on his mace and radiating 'Outraged Paladin'.

"Perhaps these 'Cowled Wizards' would not find it so easy to incarcerate us," he growled.

"Yeah, right!" Neeshka was gripping the hilts of her daggers, and shaking with indignant rage. "We've seen off worse than a few wizards, just let them try it."

The guard realized that things were getting out of hand. "Now then Miss, Sir. There's hundreds of Cowled Wizards, and they don't hang back, they all turn up in a bunch. I'm just warning you what happens to criminals, friendly-like. You just obey the law, and you've got nothing to worry about."

"Except for foot-pads, slavers, assassins, hysterical mobs, random lunatics... my, the list does rather go on, doesn't it?" Beneath the arch sarcasm, Sand was really sounding quite worried.

Danno floundered, then grasped desperately at a straw drifting by. "Just a moment. You said 'without authorisation'. So... we can get authorisation? Who from? And how?"

The guard hesitated, and studied their expensive apparel and shabby appearance carefully. "You'd have to ask at the main administrative building in the Government District about that, Sir. I believe that if you can establish your credentials as a respectable person of property, then the granting of a license is a formality."

"Ah. Somehow," said Sand, "I get the feeling that 'establishing our credentials' involves the transfer of money. Would you happen to know how much?"

"Eight thousand gold."

"Ten," murmured his companion.

"Really? Well, well, it just seems to go up every week, doesn't it? So, that would be ten thousand gold. Each." Now that the moment of crisis seemed to have passed, the guard was clearly enjoying himself immensely.

And then, just to add the final touch, Ammon started laughing. "You really knew nothing of this, did you, you idiot boy? For all your unearned titles, and the triumphs won for you by your companions, yes, and your betters, you're still just an ignorant swamp farmer.

"As it happens, I have been in good standing with the Cowled Wizards for many years. Since before you were born, in fact. And now that we are safely within their jurisdiction, I no longer need your pathetic protection. No more than I need your posturing or threats!"

Almost without thinking, Danno drew the Silver blade. The shards, echoing his alarm and anger, shifted against each other producing a grinding snarl.

"Don't be a fool," Ammon snapped. "How long do you think you'll last, fighting against the whole city? Attack me in sight of these guards, and that will be your fate."

He stepped away from the group, and addressed the gate guard. "My name is Ammon Jerro, Associate of the Cowled Wizards and Favoured of the Council of Six. You will call the Cowled Wizards' attention."

"Err... Yes Sir! At once!" Nervously, the guard touched an amulet around his neck, and whispered a password. A moment later a gateway appeared. Ammon stepped toward it, then paused and turned to stare at Danno.

"I shall be sending for my belongings later."

He vanished. After a brief silence, Neeshka asked, "What did he mean? We haven't got any of his crap."

"I think I have." Danno rubbed nervously at his chest, where there was a small faded scar under his robes. "I think we need passage on a ship out of here, fast."

---

The next two days were an anxious flurry of activity.

They spent the first evening trying to find (and pay for) shelter for the night. They ended up in the cheapest inn they could find, a sordid and disreputable place in the slums called the Copper Coronet, bartering away the last of their potions for a room. It looked as if almost anything could be had there for a modest fee – a meal, a bed, drink, drugs, prostitutes, a mugging, a slit throat... The only thing that persuaded Danno they were better off in there than sleeping in doorways, was that he feared they could get the mugging and slit throats for free on the streets.

The thought of being without his magic, of himself, Sand and Grobnar being without their magic, was more than alarming, it was frightening. Even with the sword of Gith, he relied on his spells in combat, and Sand was useless if he couldn't use magic. At first Danno hoped the gate Guard had been exaggerating, but they quickly found otherwise.

"Ah, it used to be you'd be alright if you kept it behind closed doors," commented the Coronet's barman, his tongue loosened by their last coins. "But since the mage Irenicus blew up the Promenade ten years ago..." He shook his head in gleeful pessimism. "Well, now you don't even get a warning for a first offence. They're even cracking down on clerics, I hear. Not officially, oh no, not officially. But if someone gets struck by lightning, lets just say the Cowled Wizards don't stand around asking if it was a spell or a prayer that did it.

"Come to think of it, some of you might want to avoid the public rooms. Dressed in robes and all, weelll, you do look a lot like magic users. Wizard baiting is a bit of a sport these days, with our rougher customers. Good lads, good lads, but some of them can take a joke a bit far, see."

That night Danno struggled to sleep, jumping at every creaking floorboard or scurrying cockroach, and fancying that Ammon's demons were lurking in the shadows. Finally the soft murmur of Elanee and Casavir's voices, as they talked long into the night, lulled him into a fitful slumber.

The next day, and the one after, were a frustrating search for merchants who would pay them anything like a decent price for their equipment. Passage on a ship out of the city seemed to cost an exorbitant amount, something to do with the trade winds that year, and thanks to the drought, money was in short supply throughout the city. Danno's, Sand's and Elanee's enchanted robes went first, for pitifully little, then magical rings and amulets. Casavir's mace was replaced by something much cheaper, and in a brief moment of madness Danno even thought of selling the Gauntlets, Belt and Hammer of Ironfist. Luckily he came to his senses before suggesting this to Khelgar.

As evening fell and lamps were being lit across the merchant quarter, the companions, tired and short-tempered, straggled back to the Coronet. There were few street-lamps in the slums, and the narrow alleys were dark as night between the huddled buildings.

"As near as I can tell, we're about five hundred gold short," Danno said.

"Five hundred? Is that all? Hells, I can get that for us just tonight, no problem. A few purses, a house or two..." Neeshka, bored to tears by all the walking and haggling, lit up at the thought of saving the day doing what she loved. She bounced on her toes as she walked, whipping her tail about eagerly. "Come on Danno, it'll be easy!

"No. It's too risky. One tripped alarm or sharp-eyed mark and you'll have the watch down on us."

"Hey! I'm way too good to slip up like that. You just don't want me stealing stuff! Oh, you're all for dragging us through packs of wolves to save snotty little brats who can't look after themselves, but as soon as I want to lift some coin to get us out of here, suddenly it's 'too risky'!"

Khelgar snorted irritably. "He was quick enough to look the other way to your thieving in Neverwinter – encouraged you even! If the lad's learnt better, well I'm glad."

Sand cleared his throat awkwardly. "Much as it pains me to agree with the tiefling, she does have a point. We are in a dangerous situation and... well, just _occasionally_ I rather think that good sense demands a certain flexibility."

"Huh. Well I'm surprised by you wizard, I am. I never had you figured for a thief." Khelgar sounded more disappointed than disgusted.

Sand bridled, drawing himself up haughtily. "Well I _really_ couldn't expect you to understand the finer points of _basic_ common-sense and survival, but surely even _you_ must see that..."

"Be quiet, all of you!" Elanee snapped out the words, pale and tense.

"Elanee, do not distress yourself." Casavir rested his hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. "We are merely weary. Such disagreements are understandable..."

"No, be quiet! Listen!"

They froze.

Nothing.

Then, the clink of a potsherd. The faint 'clonk' of wood on brick. A whispered oath...

"**GET 'EM!**"

Dark, indistinct figures hurled themselves from the surrounding alleyways, arrows whispered through the shadows, rattling thinly on brick and cobble. Light flared, harsh and dazzling, sending shadows leaping wildly. Casavir was hemmed into a corner and trying to strike past a hedge of halberds, Neeshka twisted and dodged as two knife-men harried her. Danno moved his hands to cast, swore, drew the sword of Gith and sent its shards at one of the knife-men (_get her clear get her back-stabbing),_ heard...

"**THAT'S HIM!**"

...and was being mobbed. He twisted aside from a shortsword, felt a crushing blow on his shoulder, desperately called the shards back and whirled them into a barrier around himself. Khelgar bellowed "Sand, run you daft bugger!" One of Danno's attackers squealed, Elanee's spear tearing the man's thigh, then she was forced away by the crush and lost to view. Danno staggered away from the press, retreated into a narrow alley, desperately trying to cock his crossbow, load a bolt, couldn't see the others now. A heavily armoured thug was thrusting with a polearm past the shards, the blade sliced his jaw, would have cut his throat if he hadn't ducked, a window banging open above and an archer leaning out, trying for a clear shot as Danno retreated...

He turned, and ran.

* * *

Danno woke, confused and with a vague sense of alarm. He sat up hurriedly, and looked around. This was most certainly not the Copper Coronet. He was lying on a pallet in a dark and dingy... store-room? The walls appeared to be made of rust-stained metal. Or, possibly, blood-stained stone. The door was hanging on one hinge, and looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

"You're awake."

Danno started with shock, then relaxed as Elanee emerged from the shadows and crouched beside him.

"How are you feeling?" She put her hands on his head and started running her fingers over his scalp, probing delicately with her fingertips.

"I'm fine. Where are we? And how did we get here? Will you stop that? I'm fine, really. A bit tired, er, exhausted really, but I'm alright."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Um. Selling a bunch of rings and amulets. For far too little. Then... we were attacked! Where is everyone!? Are they alright?"

She crouched back on her heels, and sighed deeply. "Yes, everyone is well. They're sleeping. We have taken shelter in a temple of Talos."

"What?! Why Talos?"

"Perhaps it would be better if I told you what has been happening from the beginning. Without interruptions, please?"

"Yes, sorry. Carry on."

"Very well. Yes, we were attacked. Our attackers seemed... highly proficient. Indeed, they seemed to known our weaknesses well. We were forced to scatter almost instantly, but as soon as we did so our attackers seemed to lose interest. I... I think they were after you above all.

"We managed to make our way to the Coronet, then Casavir and Khelgar went looking for you. They found you... five of our attackers had cornered you, and overwhelmed you. You managed to slay two, but the other three pulled you down and... and beat you viciously.

"By the time Khelgar and Casavir found you, and put your attackers to flight, you were as good as dead. You had terrible injuries, and a serious head wound. Casavir did all he could, but he had few blessings left, and you couldn't be roused to swallow a potion.

"They risked moving you, managed to bring you to the Coronet without being caught. Then Khelgar and the others stayed to guard you, while Casavir and I went to find aid."

"Why? Sorry, I mean, why Casavir and you? Casavir I can understand, but if you were attacked again, surely Khelgar..."

"And should we have left you unguarded?" Elanee snapped. "If they were bold enough to attack in such numbers, even in the slums, might they not have risked attacking the Coronet? Khelgar had to stay! And I thought..." She paused, and abruptly looked away.

"Elanee? What is it?"

In a lower, hesitant voice she said "I thought that if Casavir was attacked, then I could use magic to aid him." She looked at Danno briefly, a steady, warning gaze that stopped his exclamation dead, then dropped her eyes to her hands, as they lay in her lap knotting the fabric of her robe. "I... I have realised... I mean, I realized in the attack, that I would rather risk capture by the Cowled Wizards than see... I mean, he..."

She stuttered into silence.

"Um. Er... Elanee? Are you and Casavir... Err..."

Elanee flushed, glanced up, then dropped her eyes again.

"Oh. I had no idea." Danno felt horribly awkward.

"I've hardly made a public display of my feelings." Elanee looked as awkward and embarrassed as Danno felt.

"Ah. I see. Have you told _him_ how you feel?"

Elanee looked at him sharply. "I have not, and I'll ask you not to tell him... not to tell _anyone_ about this. I don't know why I mentioned it, my wits must be addled."

"Tell him."

Elanee lifted her eyebrows in surprise and a little anger. "You'd give advice on relationships to one who is much older and certainly more experienced than you? When you yourself have never told Neeshka how you feel about her? Such arrogance!" She paused, then her anger subsided, and she smiled faintly. "I'm sure that was your main weapon against the King of Shadows."

Danno couldn't help grinning weakly. "If I ever said to Neeshka 'I love you', I don't think you'd be able to see her for dust, she'd run so fast. If she ever does feel that way about me in return... well, it'll just happen.

"Anyway, we may not live through tomorrow. Hells, we may not live through tonight. I know elves take these things slowly, but perhaps you haven't got time. And even if we do come through this, well, Casavir isn't exactly a youngster. Take this at a cautious elves' pace and you'll be spooning him gruel at your wedding feast."

Elanee shut her hanging jaw sharply, and glowered at him. "Thank you. I didn't wish to be reminded of nature's course quite so graphically. And of course, that's an excellent reason _not_ to pursue these feelings I have for him." She sagged slightly, and rubbed her temples.

"But perhaps, in your impetuous human way, you are right. Perhaps it is better to risk disappointment and loss than to risk regret.

"Anyway, enough of that. Where was I? Ah, yes. Casavir and I went searching for healing, for a cleric. We didn't know where the closest healer might be found, so we headed for the temple district. The first temple we came to was a temple to Talos.

"I think even those priests dedicated to violence and destruction were somewhat alarmed when Casavir, armoured and splattered with his enemies and his own blood, and with his befouled mace in hand, charged into their temple roaring for a healer. Still, they showed remarkable strength of character. The high priest himself told Casavir that they worshipped destruction, and that they did not 'do healing'."

"Good grief. Did you go elsewhere?"

She smirked. "Hardly. Casavir seized hold of the high priest, and told him that they would provide a healer, or they would see their god incarnate in that very temple. Most indiscriminately incarnate. They... decided that perhaps a certain distance between a god and his worshippers is prudent, and ordered one of their dark clerics to accompany us. Casavir dragged him along so urgently, I don't think that vile little man touched foot to ground more than twice on our way back.

"When we reached the Coronet, we found that you had briefly woken, but then slipped even deeper into unconsciousness. You were failing fast. The dark cleric..." She hesitated, and her face darkened with anger.

"The healings of Talos are not gentle, and the strength for the healing does not come from Talos himself. Instead it comes only from the cleric, and the one being healed. Their healings, you see, are a test. A trial. If the cleric doesn't have the strength of purpose to heal at great cost to himself, or the injured one does not have the strength to survive the process, then it will be instantly fatal.

"Had I known that before he started, I would have searched for healing elsewhere.

"But you did survive, for which I think you can thank your own strength. Even with Casavir and Khelgar standing over him, I doubt that cleric gave much of himself to the healing."

"I'm not surprised. Tell me again, where have we taken shelter?"

"In the temple of Talos."

"The same temple of Talos filled with evil priests who worship destruction? From where Casavir practically abducted one of their clerics and forced him under duress to heal me? This may be a very stupid question, but... Why?"

Elanee pulled a face. "We had to stay together. And we had to stay together somewhere more defensible than the Copper Coronet; somewhere there were healers, in case your condition worsened. The other temples, the holy places... Neeshka refused outright to take shelter there."

"Ah. You'd think she'd be able to put up with a bit of an itch for a few days. In the circumstances."

Elanee shrugged non-committally. "I fear that she's starting to regret her insistence. The darkness, and the theme of blood in the building... it reminds her of another place."

Danno blinked, puzzled; then suddenly felt physically sick as he realised what she meant. "Oh gods! Is she alright? We can't make her stay here! Surely we can go somewhere else."

"She's coping. She hates to be left alone here, but in company she can at least eat and sleep. I think she'll be alright."

"Are you sure? Elanee, I don't want..."

"I'm sure. We can't risk searching for other shelter, even in the Temple district we may be attacked if we draw attention to ourselves – and Neeshka isn't the only one who finds this place distressing!" She stopped, paused to control her flash of anger, then continued. "There are other advantages. The priests and clerics here have no regard for the law, even for evil law. They've done much to shield this place from observation by the Cowled Wizards. If we're attacked here, then we will likely be able to use our magic in the fight. And as we're sure we were attacked at the command of Ammon Jerro, who is a friend of both the Cowled Wizards and the Council, the priests and clerics here are disposed to regard us as fellow agents of violence, destruction and chaos."

"Hmm." Danno reluctantly lay back, worried and fretful, but realising how bone weary he was. "I'm not sure whether to be relieved or disgusted. Though I have to admit, I can't fault their powers of observation." He yawned hugely. "We do seem to cause or attract a lot of trouble, don't we? Perhaps we should... get this lot to... fund our adventures."

"You are talking nonsense." Elanee was smiling faintly, despite her words. "I think you're light headed from exhaustion. Come, lie down and sleep, you still have much recovering to do."

"Alright. Are you going to sleep?"

"I'll keep watch for a while, then wake Khelgar."

"Mmm. G'night."

"Goodnight, Danno. And thank you."

"Hmm?"

"I... I think I will talk to Casavir. Danno?" A soft sigh. "Sleep well, Danno."

* * *

* * *

_Author's note - Many thanks to WitchWolf for beta reading, and offering encouragement and criticism. This chapter would have been much worse otherwise :-)_


	5. Dark Plans

_Author's note: Due to pressure of Real Life (TM), WitchWolf hasn't been able to beta read this for me. Expect a thorough re-write in due course. Any comments or suggestions for improvement are eagerly welcomed._

_From chapter 6 rating will change to M for violence and implied (mostly humorous) sexual content._

* * *

**Dark Plans**

When Danno woke again, after a dreamless sleep, it was to the sound of occasional humming, interspersed with the busy scratching of a quill. Grobnar was perched on a rickety chair in the corner of the room, writing furiously in his notebook. Danno watched him quietly for a while, before clearing his throat and starting to sit up.

"Oh, you're awake. Excellent!" Grobnar hopped down from his chair and trotted over, smiling cheerfully. "I'm writing the song of the Battle of the Athkatla Slums, only... well, you see, I'm having some trouble with your final stand. It really is rather frustrating, because I wasn't there, you see. Of course, you'd know that, because you were.

"Tell me, what's the best way to describe your pain? Excruciating? Or unbearable?"

"And a good morning to you too, Grobnar." Danno smiled at Grobnar's surprised expression.

"Goodness, is it morning already? Well, I am quite hungry, so I suppose it must be breakfast time. Unless it's supper-time, of course. I've rather lost track, I suppose. That often happens when I'm composing." He looked around vaguely, as if hoping the sordid little room, sunk in perpetual candlelit twilight, might provide a clue to the time.

"Um. Well, what's everyone else doing?"

"Oh, they're all having breakfast. Oh, of course, silly me! When I looked outdoors just now there was a beautiful sunset. So it must be supper-time!"

"Okaaay. Shall we just join the others having breakfast?"

Grobnar's face creased in concern. "Oh, well, if you're sure you're strong enough. Elanee was most insistent that you shouldn't get up if you weren't ready." Then in a confiding tone, he said, "She told me to sit on you if you didn't see reason. Although... I'm not sure how that would help, to be honest."

"Nor am I. Where are my clothes?"

"Right here! Do you think I should sing the others my new song while they eat?"

Danno thought of their reactions, and grinned cheerfully at the happy gnome. "Excellent idea. I'm sure they'll love it."

After dressing in some ragged, ill-fitting black robes, obviously borrowed from the priests of Talos, Danno followed Grobnar out of the room and along a short corridor lined with poky little bedrooms. The entire temple looked as if it had been furnished from the contents of a rubbish pit. Broken furniture crudely splinted together, doors with broken locks, doors lying flat on the floor, and in the bedrooms were lice infested mattresses. _These priests of Talos are poverty stricken. The people of Athkatla must regard them with utter contempt._

Danno felt a grim satisfaction at the thought. He'd never been devout, even as a child, but he'd still learnt to share the Earthmother's hatred of senseless destruction, and in West Harbor Talos had been regarded as a bogey-man to threaten naughty children with. _These priests would have loved the King of Shadows. And to think we're sheltering with them!_

The others had finished eating by the time Danno's weak legs carried him into the temple's tiny refectory. They were huddled around a table talking earnestly, but when Danno came in they all clustered round him.

"Danno!" Elanee looked both relived and reproachful. "Are you sure you're strong enough to be up? I told Grobnar..."

"Elanee, I'm fine. But starving. Is there any food in this dump?"

"It really is quite a relief to see you on your feet. I _rather_ feared we'd lost you."

"Thanks Sand. Serves me right for leaving that rod of resurrection in the ruins of Illefarn, doesn't it?"

"Well I _certainly_ wasn't going to say anything, but now you mention it..."

"Leave the lad alone, Sand. Tyr's Grief, lad, it's grand to have you back again."

Casavir briefly gripped Danno's shoulder. "Indeed. This foul place weighs less heavily on the spirit now that you are recovered."

Danno took a deep breath – he really, really didn't want to do this. _Oh well. If there's no breakfast to be had, at least I've got lots of humble pie to eat._ He gulped. "Elanee... Elanee tells me I have you to thank for that. Casavir... have I ever told you what a wonderful person you are, and how much I value your being in this group?"

Casavir smiled wryly, and perhaps a little bitterly. "Not that I remember, no."

"Well I'm saying it now, and I mean it. Thank you."

Casavir's smile eased. "I am only glad that my efforts were not in vain. And I understand that I also owe you thanks for..." his eyes flicked toward Elanee "recent developments."

"Yes, quite _remarkably_ noisy 'recent developments'" Sand commented acidly. "I am quite certain that our glorious leader was the only person in this _entire_ festering building who was able to sleep through them."

Elanee was blushing furiously, but also looking extremely smug and self-satisfied. _Hells and demons,_ Danno thought wildly. _That was fast! How long was I asleep since I talked to Elanee? A month? A year?_

"Um. Err... you're welcome. How... how long was I asleep?"

"Rather more than a day" said Elanee calmly, "since we spoke." She was still blushing.

"Ah. Right."

All this while, Danno had been surreptitiously looking round for Neeshka. _Where is she? Is she alright?_ "where's Neeshka?"

"Huh? She was here just a moment ago. Dammit, where has that lass got to?"

"Oh, I'm here."

Neeshka stepped quietly out of a shadowy corner. There was something slightly sinister, threatening, about the way she appeared, and her expression wasn't glad, but challenging.

An instant later Danno was sent staggering into a wall by a vicious, open-handed slap to the face which left his head spinning. Even through the ringing in his ears, he could hear her screeching;

"You nearly died! You coulda just let him go, but noooo, you had to be all City Watch lawful and say you'd hang him, and they would've chopped you up and you'd have _died!_ Forever! And... and..."

Then she turned and stormed out of the room.

There was a long and embarrassed silence. Once his eyes had uncrossed, Danno saw that everyone was studiously avoiding looking at each other, and especially avoiding looking at him. Then Sand cleared his throat nervously.

"Once again, I hadn't been going to say anything, but _perhaps_ she does have a point."

Casavir frowned severely, but even so there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice. "Our leader behaved honourably. It is right that Jerro should answer for his crimes."

"I'm with the paladin. It just ain't right that the sorcerer should get off scot free." Khelgar at least didn't sound in the least bit uncertain.

Grobnar piped up, sounding unusually forlorn and troubled. "He killed Shandra. It doesn't seem fair. Why should he be alive and not her? But it doesn't seem right to just... hang him. I mean, he did just try to kill all of us, or at least that's what everyone says, but... Oh dear, it is all so complicated."

Sand gestured irritably. "All the gods know I have little love for the sorcerer. And I would also be _most_ happy to see him brought to trial, a trial he richly deserves. But perhaps it wasn't the utmost pinnacle of good sense to actually declare our intention so frankly? I simply make the suggestion that the tiefling is showing _uncommonly_ good sense in upbraiding the Knight Captain, despite her lamentable lack of decorum in doing so.

"By the way, do you think, Danno, that you could stop looking quite so happy? Given the circumstances we are in, it really is rather disturbing."

---

As it turned out, Neeshka had only retreated to the next room. It seemed to be a room for prayer, contemplation, or just relaxation – although the furnishings were so shabby and spartan that it was difficult to tell. However, there were several chairs with cushions of a sort, and a small fireplace. Danno found her crouching by the fire, staring into the flames. There were also a couple of black robed figures, sitting back in the shadowy corners and watching her intently.

Danno crouched down beside her and said softly, "I'm sorry. You're right."

She sniffed, and hastily rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Oh. Well, sure I'm right. You should listen to me more often. All this 'Oh, it's so sad, I must look after them'. You oughta spend more time looking after yourself. And us."

"Hmm. Of course, you became one of 'us' when I helped one of 'them'."

"Huh? What do you mean?" She glared at him suspiciously. "Are you turning into a monk or something? You're not going to start going around saying the sky's green because it's purple or weird stuff like that, are ya?"

He sighed. _She'll never understand. _"No, don't worry, I'm not going to go all Zen on you."

"Oh. Good. Because those mystics are really creepy sometimes, you know? Leldon hooked up with one, for a while. He kept talking about how everything's really one thing because it looks like something else. And it kinda felt like he reckoned everything was really his because it looked like it was someone else's... which I can totally get behind, of course. But sometimes he'd look at me like... sorta like he reckoned I was really dead because it looked like I was alive. Like I said, really creepy. Even Leldon had more sense than to hang around him for long."

"You said he was a Zen mystic? Sounds to me like he was just insane. Is he still in Neverwinter? What happened to him."

Neeshka sniggered nastily. "Turns out he was really in prison because it looked like he'd done a real big robbery."

"Ah. Amazing how deceptive appearances can be."

"Yeah, isn't it? He looked pretty amazed when he saw the evidence in court. He kept swearing how it was someone else did it." She paused, cocked her head thoughtfully, then in a mockingly contemplative tone added, "I dunno, he kinda lost his mystical viewpoint there."

"I'll bet he did."

They were silent for a while, staring companionably into the flames. Then Danno said, "I'm not sorry that I wanted Ammon to be put on trial. Even before the slums he tried to kill us repeatedly. And in his haven... we went there to ask for help, and he decided it would be easier to kill us than to talk. He's just as creepy as that mystic, he just hides his madness better. But you're right, I should have been a lot smarter dealing with him."

Neeshka rolled her eyes. "No kidding. So... what now? I reckon we should just steal a lot of money and get a ship outta here. We coulda done that the same night we got here, if you hadn't been so set on being all lawful. Or scared of the watch."

Danno glanced over his shoulder to where the two (he assumed) priests of Talos were leaning forward trying to eavesdrop. "Let's go and talk to the others. I think... I think you've given me an even better idea."

She brightened up, and leant forward eagerly. "Have I? I mean, sure, of course I have. What is it?"

"I need to sort out some details first, and get the others on board." He tried to smile disarmingly. "No sense having a plan that will just drive us apart."

"Hmph. I don't see why not, if it gets rid of Miss Blossom. What do we need her for anyway? We've sorted out the King of Shadows. Ammon will be a pushover, you'll see."

Danno winced. _Still jealous, still making waves._

"Well, for one thing, she can keep Casavir occupied. She might even take off a bit of his holy shine for us, from what I hear. And right now we do really need all the strong sword-arms we can get."

"Yeah, well... I suppose." She paused, thoughtfully, then smirked. "Hey, maybe she _can_ dirty him up a bit. You should have heard them last night, they sounded like a couple of animals!"

"There you go, then. If you stop itching around him, you'll know she's doing some good. Err, some bad."

"Yeah... Um. Danno?" All of a sudden she was looking, and sounding, rather... wistful?

"Yes?"

"Oh. Nothing. C'mon, lets find the others, I want to hear this plan."

---

"What!? By Tyr and Lathander and all that is holy, what depths have you sunk to? To even propose such a thing is... is..."

Danno watched Casavir with alarm. He had never, never expected a reaction like this. It seemed to be even odds whether Casavir would attack him or collapse from apoplexy. _I wonder how big that vein can get before it pops?_

"Insanity? Suicide?" And now Sand was joining in. _Damn, I thought Sand would back me up._

"Irresponsible? Perverse? No, none of those are _quite_ the word I'm looking for, now let me see, what is it? Oh, of course. Stupid! Deeply, deeply stupid! Really, I am _almost_ impressed, I wouldn't have thought even you were capable of such foolishness. Do you think, perhaps, that blow to the head has addled his brains?" This last comment was addressed to Elanee, who simply shook her head in angry disapproval.

"I... I dunno, Danno. I don't think this is such a great idea. I mean, getting back at Ammon and all, yeah, but... this?"

Danno stared at Neeshka wordlessly, until she started squirming uncomfortably, and her expression shifted from worried to mulish. Then he looked to Khelgar.

"Well? I'm sure you have a few uncomplimentary opinions to offer."

Khelgar looked levelly at him, not blustering, but meeting his gaze steadily. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Lad, I'll not say I'd be sorry to see that sack of bile that calls itself Ammon Jerro suffer. But I'd be sorry to see you set your feet on the same road he took. Can you not think of another way?"

That shook Danno, more than he let himself show. He looked at Grobnar.

"Oh. Oh, you... you want my opinion? Really? Gosh. Well, I suppose it is quite clever..."

"Clever, oh yes, this from the..."

"Let him speak, Sand."

"Or you will do _what_, Knight Captain?"

"Let's not let it come to that. Let's be _clever_ about this, Sand, shall we? Now, you were saying, Grobnar?"

"Was I? Oh, yes. Well, I suppose it is quite clever. In a rather terrible way, of course. But the thing is... well, take blast globes, for instance. They might explode, obviously, that's just in their nature. But they don't actually start running round chasing people, and smashing down walls to get at them. Although, now I come to think of it, with the right ingredients..."

Sand groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh _gods_! Now look what you've done! Please, I beg you, abandon this lunacy before _one_ of you destroys us all!"

Danno rubbed his face wearily. "All right. Somebody come up with a better plan. One that will work! One that either kills Ammon _without_ calling down the guards and Cowled Wizards on us, or cuts him off from his contacts and supporters so completely that he doesn't have a chance of coming after us.

"And remember, doing this without leaving a clue isn't good enough! His friends will _know_ who's behind any assault or poisoning or blackmail. It has to be something that no-one will even _think_ to associate with us. Something where the person responsible is obviously and plainly someone else!"

He glared round at them all. Sand was thinking furiously. Neeshka was frowning fretfully, and fiddling with her lucky coin. Khelgar chewed his lower lip absently, while Grobnar was scribbling hurriedly in his little notebook. _Not rampaging blastglobes, please Earthmother, not that._ Elanee was looking lost and upset, quite out of her depth with this sort of machination. And Casavir, who had at least sat down again, was looking... tired. Tired, sad and rather old. Danno felt a rush of pity for him. For Casavir, for all of them. And also for himself.

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to do this, I really don't. But I can't think of anything better. And I won't have us spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, waiting for him to catch up with us. Maybe it's me he'll go for first, for the Sword of Gith and the shard that's still in me, but you all know him. Do you really think he'll leave any loose ends?

"I... I'll talk to the high priest here, see if he has any informers who can tell us where Ammon's based, if we even have a chance of doing this. If they come up with his location before tonight, and no-one has a better plan, then I'll do this my way. Alone, if need be."

"At what cost?" Casavir's voice was dull, and low. "At what cost to yourself? Khelgar is right, wasn't this how Ammon started? By doing something terrible because he thought he had to? He thought he was saving the world. You are merely trying to save..."

"You! All of you! And don't you dare tell me it might be better to face death with a pure heart, or some garbage like that. You can make that choice for yourself, you can't make it for anyone else. And I won't! As long as one of you wants to live, I will sell my bloody _SOUL_ to make that happen!

"Casavir, don't do this to me, I can't bear it. Just... just think of a better plan. Please."

And turning his back on them, he left the room.


	6. Blood and Power

**Blood and Power**

So it was, late that night, Danno found himself crouching in the overgrown garden of a large but faded mansion just outside the main Government district.

No-one else had come up with a plan that, in Danno's opinion, was any better than his, though Sand and Casavir had both tried. Sand's plans had became more and more complicated as Danno picked holes in them, and for a while it had become a morbid sort of entertainment as Danno tried to see just how convoluted he could push Sand into making them. Sand's last plan had ended up as a marvellous construct, in Danno's imagination resembling a towering confection of spun sugar, its delicate strands interleaving, merging and branching in glorious profusion. Sand himself had become quite enamoured of it simply as an intellectual tour-de-force, and had been crestfallen when Elanee, trying to suppress hysterical laughter, had pointed out that it required Grobnar to be in three different places at once.

Casavir's plans were much more realistic. However, he relied almost entirely on the idea of a straightforward attack on Ammon, made to look like the work of someone native to Athkatla who might have a plausible motive. His most ingenious plan involved stealing enough money from various deserving targets to buy licenses to practice magic (which got Neeshka's enthusiastic approval), then attacking Ammon in the guise of agents of the Cowled Wizards. But as Danno pointed out,

"He knows us. Even if we're disguised, he knows our styles, he knows the _feel_ of our magic. If we don't kill him, and have to retreat, then there's no way he'll fall out with the Cowled Wizards over it. And they're a lawful organisation, for all their corruption. There'll be memos, forms and approvals surrounding any murders they carry out. You can be sure that they'll know none of them sanctioned any attack on him.

"No, whether the attack succeeds or fails, we'll be the only logical suspects."

In the end Danno prevailed. He didn't really convince anyone else of the wisdom or morality of his plan, but to his mind at least it had two great advantages: it involved huge amounts of widespread panic and confusion, ideal for drawing unfriendly attention away from them, and liable to muddle recollections during later investigation; and it risked only two of them. It also had the advantage of delighting the priests of Talos, who until he described it to them had been becoming increasingly impatient and irritable at the companions' presence.

In fact, it had been the high priest's avid excitement that had come closest to putting Danno right off the whole scheme.

"A Tanar'ri unconstrained, in the heart of the city? Wonderful! What an utterly delicious scheme. Of course, our lord Talos prefers direct destruction, the pure violence of the storm, but there is a wonderful element of chaotic horror in your plan that is really quite, quite delightful. And it shall be blamed on this associate of the Cowled Wizards, this Ammon Jerro? Yes, yes, I see how it would be. A known dabbler in demonology, just days in the city, and then..." He shivered with obscene delight. "Yes, yes, perfect. I suppose you are dead set on summoning it within his estate? The effect of it appearing in, say, the marketplace would be far greater. Within his estate, baffled by walls, distracted by guards, there is a real danger that the Cowled Wizards would be able to confront and destroy it before it could break out into the city proper."

_Trust me, I'm counting on that_, Danno thought. But to the priest he said "No, if it just appeared in the city, with Jerro nowhere near, people might suspect him but they wouldn't really be able to accuse him. Why would let loose something like that, when the Cowled Wizards and the Council are his allies? But if it rampages out of his estate, if it looks like a mistake, a careless blunder... well, how could he deny it was his fault? The louder he protests, the less people will believe him. Even his allies will distance themselves from him, regardless of what they really think.

"And if kills him before it escapes, then he'll be in no position to deny anything. Even if the Cowled Wizards do manage to kill the beast, the people's fear of what almost happened, and their distrust of those who almost let it happen..."

The high priest tried to affect a cunning, thoughtful air. "Ah, yes, I see. A man guided by the wisdom of Talos, with a few rumours in the right ears... why, I could gather followers in such numbers as this temple has never seen before!"

Danno swallowed bile and grinned at the priest. "Quite right! I can see how you became high priest. The power of a keen mind can achieve great things. So, you know his location. Is there anything else you can tell us? How he's guarded, or the layout of the estate?"

"Ah, well, we certainly have our sources. We knew within a day where his friends on the Council have housed him. But gathering the information you ask for can take time, and also gold..." The priest rubbed his thumb against his fingers, not a suggestive gesture, but a nervous, unconscious one. Then he pulled himself together. "But no matter! The end results will be well worth it, don't worry yourself about the cost. Come nightfall we will share what information we have with you."

The only change to Danno's original plan was one demanded by Casavir and fleshed out by Sand. Casavir and Khelgar would go to the temples of Helm and Illmater, and warn them that Ammon had been excited about an upcoming celestial confluence that would allow the summoning of an unusually powerful demon – and that Ammon had arranged the attack on them in an attempt to prevent them giving this very warning. Hopefully, given the cold relations between these temples and the Cowled Wizards, the warning would come too late to interfere with Danno's summoning of the demon, but the knights and paladins of the orders would be able to reach Ammon's loaned estate in time to contain the monster.

Danno hadn't been happy about this. Even in the Temple district he was frightened that they'd be attacked. But both had insisted, and he had to admit that he really didn't want a demon loose in the city proper on his conscience.

Now, Danno waited in the hot, heavy darkness. He had the summoning focus he had made in the temple's workshop tucked away in his robes, a brush and tints for the circle, some of Sand's best invisibility potions, and he also had a small key. Pilfered by a Talosian worshipper, the priests claimed it opened some of the doors in the mansion. The silver blade was a comforting weight on his hip, a little reassurance against the chance of everything going wrong.

He peered up at the nearby building, at the heavily curtained and near invisible windows. Faint chinks of light could be seen here and there, the gleam of candles and lanterns shining through gaps. He was staring up at a particular window, watching Neeshka as she checked the place out and looked for a way in. He wished, wished with all his heart that he didn't need her here, that she could stay safely back at the temple, but he wouldn't even have been able to get past the padlocked gates on his own, let alone into the mansion.

She was practically invisible as she clung to the ivy festooned wall, peering through a gap in the curtains. If he half shut his eyes, Danno could almost imagine that he was looking at nothing more than a trick of light and shade. Anyone who hadn't watched her climb up there wouldn't even give her a glance.

Then he almost fainted with shock as, her lips brushing against his ear, she murmured "No way. He's got guards everywhere, and they're good. I mean, not as good as me, obviously. But they'd spot _you_ three rooms away. Are you ok? You've gone a real funny colour."

Danno squeaked incoherently, then pulled himself together. "Yes, I'm fine. You... surprised me, is all."

"Yeah, I know."

He could _hear_ her grinning at him, even if he couldn't see it. He paused to settle his nerves. "So we can't get near Ammon. Can we get in on the ground floor? I'd prefer it if the demon was on the same floor as him, give it a chance to get him..."

"Hmph. Like that'll make a difference. I mean, you're using Zaxis, right? Right, well Zaxis, he ain't the brightest, he couldn't find his way from one room to another without directions, but he's really, really angry; like all the time. I don't reckon it matters where you summon him, he'll just smash the whole place up. Probably pull the floor right out from under Ammon. Hey, that'd be pretty neat to watch, except we'd probably get eaten, which wouldn't be so neat..."

"Neeshka? You're babbling."

"Huh? Oh, right, sorry. Um, yeah, ground floor. Well, the thing is... they've nailed all the windows shut. And barred pretty much all the doors. Really... well, it's front door or nothing. Kinda seems like a trap to me, y'know?"

Danno swore under his breath, then fell silent, trying to decide what to do. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, though. Neeshka had been practically leaning on him so she could whisper in his ear. Now, as she waited for him to decide on their next move, she did start leaning on him, resting her head on his shoulder. Then, as he tried to sort through their options, she started nibbling on his ear.

"Neeshka! Please, that's very... distracting. Any other time, really, but not right now!"

She started guiltily, then moved away slightly. _Gods, why now? All these weeks and months I've been hoping... and she chooses now!? She'd better just be teasing me._

"Devil woman," he muttered.

"Gee, you just figured that out? It's just, being on the job, well it always makes me a bit horny. Get it? On the job? Horny? 'Cause I've got..."

"Yes. I get it."

"Well, if you're going to be like that!"

She leant against the wall, crossing her arms and (even in the darkness Danno was sure) pouting sulkily. Danno turned his mind back to the problem at hand. After a few seconds he took a deep breath, carefully unwound her tail from around his thigh (provoking faint, breathy giggles) and whispered

"Right. Front door it is."

The giggles stopped. "Err, right. Danno, are you sure?"

"Yes. We can't stop Casavir and Khelgar, not now. Damn! I knew that was a bad idea! If we don't move soon, then at best there'll be some knights and paladins knocking on that front door to ask what's happening. There may even be a small army turning up. At worst, they'll alert the Cowled Wizards and the place will be crawling. Either way, Ammon will guess our plan, and we'll never be able to try again another night. It's now or never.

"Neeshka, I want you to get me through the front door into the main hallway. If we aren't spotted instantly, and you can't actually see any traps, then I'll take it from there. You leave immediately, get back to the temple."

"What?! No way! I came to help, not just be..."

"Neeshka, please! I can't... I can't do this if I'm terrified you'll be hurt. This is all starting to go wrong already, but I have to go on with it. You always say I should look out for us, for myself. I'm asking you to look out for yourself. Please?"

She said nothing for a while. Then, "Ok." ... and she was drifting soundlessly around the corner of the building, toward the front door. Danno followed her as quietly as he could, moving much more slowly. By the time he reached the doors, she was already crouching by the locks and working intently. Even in the little pool of light cast by the lamp over the doors, she was hard to see. Keeping out of the light himself, it seemed to Danno that his eyes and ears just didn't want to notice her, but were always attracted by something else: the trembling shadow cast by a leaf, a discoloured patch on the wall, the creak of a branch – anything except her. _She's good. Much better than when we first met. She wouldn't need an invisibility potion to get past Fort Locke now._

Danno remembered what Mephasm had said to her, after Ammon had first shown him how to use a summoning circle and focus.

_You are so well-hidden, not just from the eyes of those on this plane, but from those on other planes as well. That is skill and talent and a _power_ no one can take from you._

Watching her – trying to watch her – Danno wondered just how hard to find she might become, given enough time and experience.

The lock clicked. No explosion. Neeshka eased the door open a fraction, her eye to the crack, then opened it wider, beckoning Danno to come forward. As he reached her, she crept inside. When he joined her, he could see how dilapidated the mansion was; paint was peeling from the hallway's ornate columns, the fine wooden floor was missing several tiles, and there were water stains on the decorative plasterwork. Ammon may have been able to afford guards and murderous thugs, but he certainly wasn't living in luxury.

Neeshka had been staring intently around the room, then looked at Danno and shrugged. "Well, what do ya know?" She whispered. "It's clean. No traps anywhere."

Danno sagged in relief, and briefly gripped her shoulder in thanks. She was trembling with tension.

"Thank you. I'll take it from here. Just don't lock the door on your way out, alright?"

"Danno, are you really sure? I want to help. I figure..."

"I'm sure. Look, we're just wasting time. Please get to safety."

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried as quietly as he could to the doors to one side of the hallway, and tried the key the Talosians had given him. Gods and glory, it fitted! He locked the door with trembling fingers, _don't want to be interrupted by a wandering guard_, and went to the other doors at the far end. Same lock, gods be praised. He locked it, and turned back to the hallway, reaching for the brush to inscribe the circle. _What in the seven hells!?_ Neeshka was heading along the hallway towards him, her expression mulish. Danno frantically waved her back, but she set her jaw, shook her head angrily, and carried on walking.

She had just got halfway along the hall, as Danno moved towards her, when suddenly her expression changed to alarm, and then to... panic! And... pain? Danno looked behind him, nothing there, then back to where Neeshka stood, stock still now. To where a circle of glowing lines hung just above the floor, surrounding her. She was looking terrified now. She strained to move, and the circle flared brighter, causing her to gasp with pain. For an instant Danno simply gaped, staring in bewilderment and horror. Then he rushed forward, tried to grab her, to drag her out of the circle.

The circle didn't react to him at all. His feet passed through the glowing lines as if they weren't there. But when he touched Neeshka, tried to move her, the circle brightened again and she reacted as if his hands were burning her, screeching and trying to twist away from him.

"Stop it! Stop it, you're hurting me!"

He stepped back, bewildered and helpless... and heard a distant clanging echoing through the mansion. He hesitated, looking round wildly.

"Danno, get me out of here! Break the circle, please, do something!"

He drew the silver blade and slashed at the circle. Nothing. Then Neeshka gasped, staring over his shoulder. He turned, saw the gateway forming. _Time, I need some time to think!_ He snatched one of his invisibility potions and drank it.

"You... you bastard!"

_No, I'm not leaving you, I wouldn't..._ but there was no time to reassure her. The gateway steadied, and Ammon appeared.

He looked shaken, almost frightened, his hand raised ready to cast. But, when he saw Neeshka, he seemed to calm down, to relax somewhat. He stepped towards her, wary, his eyes darting about the room.

"Well. Not what I expected at all. I'd set this trap for... other prey. Your demon blood must be remarkably potent, no matter how diluted it is."

_What do I do? What? Do I kill him? Can I? What good would that do? The Cowled Wizards would come down on us, or send assassins against us._

"You... you'd better let me out of here! You'll regret it if you don't!"

_Do I summon Zaxis anyway? No! He'd kill her, she can't run._

Ammon stared at her contemptuously. "Really? You're certainly in no position to do anything to me, and I don't see anyone else here. Did he send you to do his killing for him? I hadn't thought he had the wit. Where is he?"

Neeshka opened her mouth, then a look of horror crossed her face and she clamped her lips shut. She seemed to be struggling to speak – or not to speak. Then, the strain too much for her, she stammered,

"Wh... who?"

Danno had worked his way around behind Ammon. If he was going to do anything, he'd need the advantage of surprise. Except that he had no idea what to do.

"Don't play games with me, girl. Benner! Danno Benner! The so-called Knight Captain. Where is he?!" Then, more softly, "Come now. You know you'll have to tell me. You think Garius' compulsion was powerful? It was. It was also crude, and simple to defy. I have more experience of summoning, and compelling, demons than he ever had. This circle has a much more subtle compulsion, one that you'll not be able to fight. So tell me, where is he!"

_Oh gods! He's forcing her! After Garius... I've got to break the circle! How? I don't know enough, I don't know!_

"I... I don't know!" Neeshka's eyes were wild, she was pale and trembling.

Ammon's jaw clenched. Drops of sweat were standing out over his shaved scalp. "Do you think I haven't dealt with enough Baatezu to recognise a half-truth when I hear one? Tell me... is he _here_?" Ammon raised his hand, and twisted it. "Tell me!"

Neeshka shrieked... and Danno stopped thinking. He sent the shards of the silver blade straight at Ammon's back. Driven by his panic, rage, fear and hatred, they _screamed_ through the air in a blizzard of splintered metal, tearing through cloth and slicing into flesh.

Ammon screamed in his turn, in shock and pain, lurching forward toward the circle... into the circle. Neeshka lashed out wildly, her fist striking the side of his head, stunning him with the desperate strength of the blow. He collapsed to his knees, blood soaking his tattered clothes, splattering onto the glowing lines of his demon trap. Jerro's power to create the trap, Jerro's blood to break it.

It blazed furiously bright for an instant, scorching Ammon's legs where he knelt across the circle, burning into the wooden floor. Neeshka cried out, and hurled herself out of the circle, falling full-length. Danno heard distant shouts, the sound of fists hammering on wood, _His guards, they heard the screaming, but they're locked out._ The blade reformed, and without stopping to consider what he was doing, Danno sent the shards again, this time in a whistling, spinning storm centred on the burned, torn and crouching figure of Ammon Jerro.

Ammon had managed to twist round toward him, had lifted one arm... to cast a spell? To try and fend off the shards? Danno didn't know, didn't care. The shards tightened in their cyclone, cutting and tearing mercilessly, more power and fury in them than ever before. Ammon lifted his head, his eyes staring at Danno. Staring with pain, shock, fear... and grief. Then a shard sliced across his face, and he didn't stare at anything.

The blade reformed.

Danno simply stood, for what seemed like an eternity. Ammon had fallen, finally, sprawled across the image of the circle burnt into the floor. His blood spread slowly, pooling where there were tiles missing. He was unrecognisable as Ammon Jerro, barely recognisable as a human being. And yet Danno could still see his face, still see his staring eyes, still...

"Danno? Danno, we... we've got to go. We've got to go now!"

He came to his senses with a start. There were voices shouting in fury and panic, heavy blows on wood, creaking, cracking sounds... the guards, breaking down the doors into the hallway.

Leaping over the spreading blood, he grabbed Neeshka's hand and they fled, out the front doors and into the night.


	7. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

It was dark in the temple of Talos, a heavy, stifling darkness. Danno sat in the common room, watching the flames jump and flicker.

_What have I done? How... how could I have let it all go so wrong? How could I abandon them like that? And Neeshka. I_ sent_ her. I _**told**_ her to go. Why? Why did I do it? What... what will I do now? What will happen to me?_

_What have I done? How could I? How..._

The sound of footfalls interrupted the helpless circling of his thoughts. Heavy, unsteady footsteps, stumbling, dragging. Danno came to his feet, peering hopefully, fearfully into the darkness through the doorway.

_Have they come back? Did they survive? Hurt, they sound hurt. But I've got healing kits, Sand's potions, I can make it all right, they'll forgive me. Won't they? Is that all of them?_

"All of them? Of course it's all of them, you idiot boy. Did you think they wouldn't come back to you?" Ammon's voice was hard, and heavy with condemnation. "They are yours. They followed you, fought with you, trusted you. They will always be with you.

"As will I."

A heavy hand was resting on Danno's shoulder, holding him, forcing him to face his friends as, slowly, with torment and ruin dragging down on them, they came back to him.

Torn. Tattered. Broken.

Neeshka lifted her ruined face to him. No speech coming from that shattered mouth, no hope of it, but a horrible wail of grief and betrayal. All of them stared at him, though none of them had eyes left with which to stare, and the judgement and accusation in those sightless gazes was more than Danno could bear.

He dropped to his knees, and tried to wrap his arms round his head, blot out the sight of them. They moved closer, gathering round. Danno started screaming, but his voice was weak and shrill. He tried to strike out, drive them off, with feeble and leaden hands. He couldn't move. He sat in the common room, in the temple of Talos, his head pillowed on his arms, slumped over a rickety table. Something horrible was creeping towards him through the darkness, and he couldn't move.

_Awake, I'm awake, Oh Earthmother it's there, help me, somebody..._

His tried to shout for help, his voice a feeble croak. His arm shifted, groping vaguely. With a desperate, violent heave... he managed to roll his head to one side.

The nightmare slowly receded. Trembling he sat up, peering into the shadows. Nothing there, nothing at all. He could hear voices nearby, Casavir's deep and measured tones, Neeshka's excited chatter. _Thank the gods, they're all right, please let them be all right_. He got up, nearly fell as dizziness washed over him, stood leaning against the wall for a while, then staggered into the refectory.

They were all there. His nightmare still lingered, he had to suppress a horrible fear that they would turn ruined faces towards him, but they were alright, oh thank all the gods they were alright. And looking... _Pleased? Relieved? Why? We failed, no demon, nobody to suspect except us, we're done for. Why are they relieved?_ The high priest of Talos was also there, looking somewhat disgruntled, but hardly furious. He spotted Danno, and stepped forward.

"I must say, Danno Benner, that I am rather disappointed with this night's doings. Your demon has hardly been the destructive force that you promised me." Neeshka was making urgent and incomprehensible hand signals behind the priest's back, grinning broadly. "I had thought you were summoning a Tanar'ri, a monster to rampage through the city. Instead you seem to have conjured up a... an assassin! Something more suited to Cyric than our lord Talos! Oh, you have the city in a ferment, to be sure, but a killer that strikes so selectively, then melts into the darkness to strike again on the other side of the city, is _not_ what I was expecting!"

_What in Faerun is he on about? Demon? Strike again? _Danno realized that all he could do was try to bluff it out. "I'm so sorry you're not _entirely_ satisfied with our efforts on your behalf. The next time I risk my life in an enemy's stronghold, and risk my soul conjuring a demon, I shall take especial care to make sure I conjure exactly what you require. On this occasion, however, you'll just have to make do with what you've got – at no risk to yourselves, I might add. Now if you don't mind, might I impose on your hospitality a little, and speak with my companions? In private?"

The high priest spluttered indignantly, but also retreated. "Well, really! It's not that I'm unappreciative, but our aid was given on an understanding that... didn't come cheap..."

His voice trailed away into the next room. Danno turned to the others, and abruptly felt a strong desire to sit down. He lowered himself onto a bench. "You're alright. Neeshka, you found them. Thank the gods! You've been gone so long, I thought..."

"Sure I found them! And no Cowled Wizard had any chance of spotting me. You should have seen me, I was magnificent! Running through the shadows, leaping over the rooftops..."

"Scarin' the life out of me. Lass, the next time you go whispering in my ear, let me see you first!"

"Heh, you should'a seen your face! You went whiter than Danno! And that's pretty white, trust me."

"And what do ye reckon that paladin of Helm thought?"

"Oh, he probably thought you had a weak stomach or something. He _was_ describing the body at the time."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better, eh? I'm an Ironfist! We don't act like little girls at the mention of a spot of blood. Or at the sight of it!"

Danno left them to their squabbling, and turned to Casavir. "Casavir, I'm so glad to see you're alright, and not arrested or hauled off to an asylum or anything. Now could you please tell me what's going on? What's all this about a demon? We didn't summon any demon, Neeshka must have told you. That's why I asked her to find you, to warn you to get out of there!"

"As far as the city is concerned," replied Casavir, "Ammon Jerro was slain by a demon of his own calling. When we and the paladins of Helm and Illmater arrived at his mansion, we found the place in an uproar, with many Cowled Wizards present. It was somewhat difficult to understand what was happening, but eventually the story emerged as follows."

Casavir paused for a moment, standing relaxed and ready, marshalling his thoughts.

"Jerro's guards had thought him studying in his rooms, when they heard screaming from the hallway of the mansion, and found the doors mysteriously locked from the other side. When they broke down the doors, they found the body of Ammon Jerro lying across a summoning circle of his own making. He had evidently been torn apart by the claws of a demon he had summoned. There was no mark of any blade upon him.

"The demon had unlocked the front doors of the mansion from within, and had made its escape. The Cowled Wizards are convinced by this story. There was no arcane magic used in the mansion this night, save for Jerro's own, and there are faint traces of a demonic presence."

Danno clenched and opened his hand, anxious and impatient. "Yes, of course, Neeshka. But there was the mark of a blade on him! I used... oh."

"Aye," interrupted Khelgar. "When they let us look at the body we could see what you used. But I reckon these people haven't seen a shard storm, or what it does. Looks a lot like claws, if you're thinking that way."

A wave of relief swept through Danno. He sagged where he sat, and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh my. Are you alright?" Grobnar piped up. "You don't look very well."

"He's alright, Grobnar," Elanee reassured the worried gnome. "He's just exhausted. He's not fully recovered yet from his injuries, and he's exerted himself too far. He really should sleep."

"No, I'm fine, really. It's just... we did it. We actually did it! And I didn't have to summon a demon, and we're in the clear!"

"Indeed. We slew one of our own companions, and won't have to take responsibility for our actions. Clearly a cause for great rejoicing." Casavir's voice was heavy with sarcasm, and his expression was disgusted.

Danno's head snapped up, and he glared at Casavir. "Did Neeshka tell you what happened in there? What he did?!"

"Um, we don't need to go into all that, do we?" Neeshka's gleeful excitement had abruptly disappeared. "I mean, what's done is done, you know? We don't need to go into who did what, or who rescued who. All's well that ends well... err, right?"

Danno opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. _She doesn't want them to know. Is she... is she ashamed?_ Casavir cast a dubious, speculative glance at Neeshka. Then, unexpectedly, Sand spoke up.

"Quite right. There's no sense that I can see in raking over what is done, or offering recriminations. I would have preferred it if Ammon had been tried openly for his crimes. Justice shouldn't be done in dark places, by self-appointed judges. But we've killed in self defence before, and if he attacked them, then that is an end of the matter.

"To be perfectly honest, I am more concerned at present about our welcome here. While the charming high priest is _clearly_ delighted with our company, and our efforts tonight, I fear his hospitality might be wearing just the _slightest_ bit thin. So I do feel it might be prudent not to impose for any longer than we really need to – _**if**_ we feel we can now leave here safely?"

"Ohhh, you're gonna love this!" Neeshka was practically quivering with glee and excitement. "I did a bit of snooping around while these two were acting all shocked and horrified for the paladins and wizards, and I heard a couple of Ammon's guards talking. And guess what? They're Shadow Thieves, and Ammon still owed the Shadow Thieves a ton of money. They were _really_ unhappy with him. They were going through the place trying to find it, but trust me, they won't."

_Oh, so _that's _why she's so cheerful. _"They won't find it because... you did?"

"Weeell, I might have picked up a few little odds and ends, you know?"

Danno could guess why she didn't just come out and say it. She could see some big expenses looming on the horizon, and didn't want them eating into her haul. _And she's probably afraid I'll make her put it back, or turn it in to the authorities._ She couldn't help boasting though; finding the money and getting away with it was such a boost to her morale and self esteem, after what had happened earlier.

_Damn, but that was a stupid risk she took. Traces of her in the hallway, maybe more traps in the mansion, if one had caught her, if the Cowled Wizards or gods forbid the paladins had felt her presence..._

Danno knew by now how she'd react if he scolded her for the risk. So he forced down his anxiety, and forced a cheerful grin onto his face.

"Neeshka, you are fantastic!"

She preened, and practically purred with satisfaction. Khelgar, on the other hand, scowled angrily.

"So that's it, is it? We just steal the money, and go off with it? Fighting for what's right, there's honour in that. But lining our pockets? Lad, you know that doesn't sit right with me, it doesn't at all."

Danno shook his head. "It isn't as simple as that Khelgar. That's the money that was to pay for our deaths, or part of it. Do you really want to hand it back to the people who provided it? Or complete the payment for our murders?"

"Hmph. I suppose not. But it just doesn't feel right."

"Oh, relax Stumpy! Danno knows what's what. Now, I am going to pack my things. I can't wait to get out of this dump, and find a proper bar. In a really fancy inn!" And waving her tail in the air, Neeshka hurried chortling from the room.

Sand frowned. "And is this really sufficient assurance for us? The Tiefling hears half a conversation, steals Mystra alone knows how much, _or_ how little, and so we decide we can leave here safely? As I'm sure I said before, I am concerned about our situation here, but I would like a _little_ more certainty that Ammon's hounds have called off their hunt before venturing the streets of this city."

Danno opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped. He'd forgotten something, he knew it. He closed his eyes, trying to think through his tiredness. Then, he realised what he had missed, and the risk they still ran.

"No Sand, it isn't sufficient assurance." He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm sure Neeshka's right about what she heard, and I think she's had enough bounties on her head to know when she's found the sort of back-payment those Shadow Thieves were discussing. And I don't think they'll try to complete a contract when the customer has died owing them money.

"But there's something I forgot; another reason we need to keep that money Neeshka stole. We might still need it to buy our way out of this."

"I don't understand." Elanee looked and sounded tense and irritable. "If the authorities don't suspect us of killing Ammon, and the Shadow Thieves have no reason to attack us, then who might still threaten us?"

"The Shadow Thieves. Because Khelgar was only half right."

"Huh? What about?" Khelgar tugged at his beard nervously.

"About people not recognising a shard storm. The Cowled Wizards didn't, nor did the knights and paladins of Helm and Illmater. But... but I used it in the slums, against our attackers."

"Several times," added Casavir thoughtfully, "from what we saw in the courtyard where you were brought down."

Danno almost felt like bursting into tears: he'd been so hopeful and relieved only moments before, and now he was mired down in plots and plans again. And he was so tired. Perhaps Elanee was right, perhaps he wasn't recovered. With an effort he pulled himself together.

"So the Shadow Thieves do know what a shard storm does to someone. And if one of those guards in the mansion was also attacking us in the slums that night, then they won't accept the story of demon attack, they'll know who killed Ammon. That means they could blackmail us. If they do, I want something we can pay them with."

"I see. And do you really think the Tiefling..."

"Sand! I've already been through this with Elanee! She has a name!" Danno jumped to his feet, all his frustration and fear boiling into anger. "It's Neeshka! Neeeesh-ka! It isn't that hard to pronounce, not for an educated man like you, so _**use it damn you!**_"

In a sudden excess of rage, Danno grabbed Sand by the robes and shoved him back against the wall. Abruptly he realised what he was doing. He also realised that there was a dagger in Sand's hand. Then Casavir's heavy grip fell on his shoulder and, surprisingly gently, pulled him back.

"I think that is quite enough. Knight Captain, you have been under great strain, and are still suffering from the cruel effects of Talos' 'healing'. And I fear we have relied on you too much, and failed to allow for your condition. But you will do nothing but harm by threatening your companions."

Danno said nothing. He couldn't trust himself to speak. He wasn't even sure he could trust himself to stand, without Casavir's steadying hand on his shoulder. Sand cleared his throat awkwardly, and tucked the dagger away in his robes.

"Yes, well, perhaps I have been _somewhat_ insensitive toward the young lady. And on reflection, perhaps she is right that our first order of business should be to decamp from these dreary surroundings. The _charming_ theme of decay and darkness in the décor is certainly doing our tempers no good at all. Perhaps a little risk isn't too high a price to pay for lighter spirits."

"Ha! You're right enough there, elf... uh, Sand. The sooner we find a good inn with decent ale the better!" Khelgar's tone of forced jollity rang horribly false in Danno's ears, but it brought embarrassed murmurs of agreement from the others, and they started leaving the room to gather their few belongings. As she passed, Elanee briefly took Danno's hand and patted it sympathetically. He thought he would die of shame. He wanted to apologise to Sand, but he'd already started to leave the room. Then Danno saw Neeshka nervously peering round a door.

"Um. What's going on? What's all the shouting about?"

Casavir, who had moved away from Danno but not left the room, hesitated before saying "We have decided to find other accommodation. An inn."

"Well, sure. I just said that. You were shouting about _that_? Gee. Let me know if you're going to argue about something important, right? I guess I'll want to be in the next city." Her voice was light and bantering, but Danno thought he could hear a thread of uneasiness in it. He guessed she'd heard more than she was letting on, but couldn't really bring himself to care.

He wandered back to the bench he'd been sitting on, lowered himself onto it, and rested his forehead on the table. He wondered vaguely who was in charge of the little group now. Had Casavir taken over? He hadn't exactly come up with a plan of his own, just followed along in Neeshka's wake. Not even that, since it was Sand who'd actively suggested she had the right idea. Was _Neeshka_ in charge? Danno was sure of one thing; whoever was leading them now, it wasn't Danno.

_About bloody time too. I never wanted to be a leader. Never wanted to be... anything, really. I never had a plan for my life, did I? I studied wizardry because I was good at learning spells, and it was better than grubbing through a swampy field. It was good of Daeghun to keep me while I did that, it never put food on the table or clothes on our backs. But I never _cared_ about wizardry like Tarmas did, or even Amie. I could never invent new spells like Sand does, never fight beyond the limits of my own talent... lucky for me I am talented, very talented, but it's all rote learning, all spells other people have invented._

_What would I have been if the Githyanki hadn't come to West Harbor? Or Tarmas, for that matter? Would I have been a weaver? A tinker? An odd-job man? I think I would have liked that, just doing bits and pieces for people. But the Githyanki did come, and Daeghun sent me off to Neverwinter, and since then I've just been... reacting. Just doing what seemed the right thing to do. Trying to stay alive, trying to save lives, trying... to save myself?_

_Was that the whole point? If you save the whole world, of course you save the bit you're standing on. Was that all I was doing, just saving my own hide, just... seeing the threat more clearly than other people? Did I do anything that wasn't secretly selfish? Trying to treat my companions decently, that was just helping myself. Treating those around me like a civilised man should, well who wants to make enemies needlessly? I think I'm a good person, but am I? Really?_

_Yes... yes. That crypt, the... Bryce crypt, that was it. I just thought I was helping a little girl, helping her sister not to be an idiot with some stupid boys. If I'd just walked by, ignored them, it wouldn't have hurt me, not then, not later. Not at first glance, anyway, not if you didn't know about the necromancy. And... and saving those two little boys in Highcliff. That stupid wet couple, Gera and whatever. They'd never have been any help or threat to me._

_Yes, I am a good person. I try to be._

_But I murdered Ammon... No! That wasn't murder, it wasn't! He was **torturing** her! He's tried to kill us again and again when he could have just talked, and then he hurts Neeshka. Humiliates her! He deserved to die. I had to save her._

_He sounded frightened, when he was questioning her. Frightened, under the cruelty._

_I can't think about this any more. Can't think about him any more. Put him away in a dark box, lock it tight, throw away the key. He changed my life, changed me, changed what I am. Who I am. But he's gone now, and that's an end of it._

_I wonder... if Ammon had won in West Harbor all those years ago, if the sword hadn't shattered, the King of Shadows had never come back... who would I have been? What would have become of me? Would I have just lived there, all my life? Would I have married, had children, grandchildren? I never really seemed to have a knack with girls. Great at being their friend, most of them liked me, but none of them seemed interested in me. Not even Amie. I liked her. But not really... not like Neeshka._

_Neeshka. Oh, Sune and Chauntea, but she is beautiful. Selfish, greedy, heartless really. She never thought to treat the world better than it treated her. But she is so _alive!_ She shines, sparks, when she fights it's like a dance. She's like a flame in the night, and she doesn't care for rules, doesn't care what people think about her. She's not like me, always running around after other people, trying to fix their problems, dutifully trying to do the right thing. She just lives, just... is._

_Does she like me? Does she love me? She loves it when I protect her, when I back her up, when I encourage her to do what she wants to do anyway. Am I just a flattering bodyguard for her? A spellcasting lapdog? Maybe. I'd be happy with that, I think. Just so long as I could stay with her. So long as I could stomach what she did. Gods and demons, I am pathetic. Pathetic! I think... she did seem upset, when I woke up after being healed. And... do I remember coming round in the Coronet? Her crying? I'm not sure. Maybe she does like me. I hope so. I hope..._

"Danno! Danno! Hey, wake up!"

"Huh? Wh... wha...?"

Neeshka straightened up after shouting in his ear, rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Hells, you've been asleep for hours. I thought we'd have to drag you out of here. Holy Boy was all set to go off and kidnap some other healer. Which would have been really funny. But noisy. Hey, Casavir! It's alright, he's awake. Just needed a good loud shout. Um, Danno? We're outta here. I've got your stuff. What didn't get kicked to bits in the slums, anyway. We'll have to buy you new clothes. Those black robes? So don't suit you. But your other stuff is all dried blood and holes. Looks right at home here, so we're leaving it."

"Uh. Gods, I feel... what's happening?"

"I said, we're going! Turned some of this paper to gold, oh, we are so rich! Rented some really posh rooms in a fancy inn, asked around about contracts on us, not a whisper! Even in real bad dives, people just get really embarrassed about it. The way I hear it, the Shadow Thieves have got a new name for a job that goes really, really wrong; I mean, give up and walk away wrong. You know what it is? A Jerro Job! Oh, and I got this for you."

Danno sat up straight, tried to clear his head of the rush of words, and blinked owlishly at the amulet that Neeshka was dangling in front of him.

"What's that?"

She swatted him lightly with her tail. "It's a magic license! Got them for Sand, Grobnar and Flower Girl too."

"Elanee."

"Yeah, her. Like that landlord said, druids don't count as clerics around here, not if they start throwing lightning and elementals around. Go on, put it on! There, now you can really cast some grief at people! And you get some really good prices in shops too, when people see one of these round your neck. Sand's like the monkey with the key to the plantation, you know? Buying all sorts of books and ingredients and stuff."

"Um. What's a munkee?"

"Hells, don't you know that? It's a little furry thing that's really excitable. And greedy."

"Oh. Right. Wh... what about the high priest, is he..."

"No problem. Nooo problem! We made a real nice donation, and Casavir had a quiet word with him. Told him if he gave us trouble, we'd tell everyone who it was helping Ammon with his demon summoning. He shut right up, trust me. Turned a really nice shade of green, too."

Danno stared at her in astonishment. "Helping Ammon... Casavir said that? _Our _Casavir!?"

She grinned happily back at him. "Yeah, who'd have thought it? Y'know, I think I'm itching a bit less around him, which is really cool. Now, are you coming? Or have you decided to join the priests here, because if you have, I'm not going to be visiting real often. Ugh, I thought holy places were bad, but trust me, after this week, I'll take holy over evil any day. Come on, let's go!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Sorry, it's just... what time is it?"

"Nearly supper time. You've been snoring all day. Elanee keeps going on about you needing to rest, but if you don't start eating instead of sleeping, you're going to be resting underground, if you get my meaning. Come on!"

And with that, Neeshka whirled away and darted out the door. Danno stared blankly after her for a few moments, before shaking his head sharply, and scrambling to his feet. He looked around the dark, dirty room with it's third-hand furniture, and gave a snort of disgust. "Good riddance. Can't believe we took shelter here. What on Faerun got into us?"

Then, trying to shake the feeling that a loud-mouthed whirlwind had just swept through the room and rearranged the universe, he followed Neeshka out of the temple of Talos, and into the hot and airless Athkatla summer evening.


	8. A little Greengrass

**A little Greengrass**

Danno and Neeshka made their way together through the hot, summer evening, through the streets of Athkatla.

Danno still felt bleary and dislocated from reality, still tangled in his wandering imaginings, when they met the others near the entrance to the market district. In a way, it made the awkwardness in the group easier to deal with. He just didn't say much, answered his companions' questions without really listening, and remained wrapped in his own thoughts.

Curiously though, as they settled around a large table in the up-market inn they had moved too, all careful politeness, uneasy deference and stilted small-talk, Danno began to feel a sense of comfortable familiarity. Almost of... coming home? He puzzled this over, as Khelgar and Casavir began fetching drinks and ordering food. The group had never behaved like this, they were always squabbling or laughing, or treating each other to freezing silences and murderous glares. But this careful, walking-on-eggs politeness... why did it feel so normal, and almost relaxing?

He closed his eyes, tuning out the voices, reaching for the memory. And there it was.

_Retta Starling, chatting awkwardly with Lewy Johns. Georg, watching them with a frosty smile, yearning hopelessly after Retta and aching to bawl out Lewy. Wyll Mossfeld leaning nonchalantly against a wall, trying to show off his muscles for Amie's benefit, while she earnestly discussed the weather with him, and cast desperate glances toward Bevil, glances that shouted 'Get me out of this!' Bevil, who she had mercilessly teased the day before, taking his revenge by studiously ignoring her and talking aimlessly to his fourteen year old cousin Gina, a gawky but pretty girl who hero-worshipped him and (vainly) hoped that _this _year..._

Ah, yes. Greengrass. The feast of Chauntea, where everyone was supposed to debauch themselves in celebration of the Earthmother, the day devoted to eating beyond reason, drinking to wild excess, and fornicating with anyone and everyone within reach. The day that, in truth, started off in brittle politeness and careful, frosted smiles, as everyone dutifully suppressed the deep resentments, furious vendettas and cliquish loyalties that were the common currency of small and isolated communities the world over.

The day which continued in a mounting fever of expectation, frustration, vain hope and rising irritation.

The day which concluded with a third of the village lying in a drunken stupor under the tables, smeared with the greasy detritus of the feast, smelling strongly of cider and faintly of urine; a third of the village stumbling to dark corners in fields, sheds and barns, fumbling incompetently with each other, and vomiting at humiliating moments; and a third of the village engaged in a roaring brawl, its murderous ferocity tempered only by its drunken incapability, an annual release of suppressed rage that saw Brother Merring healing split lips, black eyes, broken noses and gap-toothed grimaces for a full week after.

_Oh the wholesome joy and celebration of Greengrass. No wonder Tamar regarded us with such contempt._

Danno opened his eyes, turned to Sand, and with a bright and friendly smile said, "Sand, I behaved like an idiot earlier, and I am truly sorry. Just because you called Neeshka 'Tiefling' instead of bothering to use her name was no reason to rough you up, especially since Khelgar does exactly the same all the time. But I'm an unreasonable man, and besotted with her, so if you do it again I shall smash your face in or die trying.

"Elanee, you are a good, kind and wonderful person, and a true friend. I am delighted you've got together with Casavir, you two are perfect for each other and I hope you're very happy together. But when West Harbor was attacked, and my friends were dying, you stood and watched and did nothing. I'll always hate you for that, and if I wasn't frightened that you're stronger than me, I'd happily drown you in a bucket of piss.

"Casavir, I've always resented you for being bigger than me, stronger than me, braver, more mature, more honourable, more experienced and better looking. If you stopped imagining that life has been so dreadfully cruel and unjust to you, and actually cracked a smile now and again, then you'd be so insufferably perfect that I'd have no choice but to kill myself.

"Khelgar, from the moment we first met you have been one of the most honest, open and forthcoming people I have ever known. I don't care that you're an even better man than Casavir. I'm honoured to have met you and travelled with you, and I would cheerfully die for you.

"Grobnar, if you would only finish your eternal composition, and build a vast mechanical monstrosity to perform it, then I could die a happy man. And if the Wendersnaven turned up to sing the chorus, then I'd know that the world was true perfection.

"Neeshka, I don't care if you are part demon, part kobold or part ogre. You are a beautiful, brave, loyal, selfish, greedy, shallow and thoughtless woman, and I adore you utterly and beyond all hope or help. I would follow you to the deepest pit of the darkest hell, and battle the massed legions of Tanar'ri and Baatezu to keep you safe."

Danno gazed cheerfully around the circle of stunned faces and hanging jaws – plus one gnome who was gazing in vacant raptures into space and murmuring "A mechanical orchestra! Oh my. Why, the bellows alone... and the violins! The gearing!"

"And now," Danno said, "I propose to get blind drunk, and with any luck I won't remember a word of this in the morning. Who's with me!?"

* * *

Danno woke, and immediately regretted it. His head hurt like a three-day drunk's hangover, and every bone in his body felt broken. He groaned piteously.

"Oh. You're awake." Neeshka, sounding pensive and reserved. "Here, drink this."

He took the little bottle that was pressed into his hands, and feebly drank the contents. Healing potion or poison, it really didn't matter. Slowly his hangover ebbed away, leaving him feeling alive, but drained. He leaned back on the pillows, and the events of last night slowly crept from the corners of his memory into the harsh light of day.

He remembered an evening of drunken good humour, tinged with hysteria, the mismatched companions declaring their true opinions of each other in increasingly outrageous terms, and laughing uproariously. He remembered Sand, leaning across the table, his elbow in a plate of something orange and gelatinous, wagging his finger in Grobnar's face, and desperately trying to pronounce the word 'Wendersnaven'; the closest he got in ten minutes of effort was 'Wensahvrhhhr'. Danno remembered Neeshka, leaning heavily against him, her tail rummaging in his crotch, giggling and slurring something incoherent about hells, and battles. And he remembered the two of them staggering up an endless flight of stairs, leaning on each other for support.

In his imagination, he had often pictured that first night with her. It would have been perfect, romantic, both passionate and tender, but with an edge of exhilaration and danger that was pure Neeshka. It wouldn't have been like the reality. A heaving, grunting struggle, accompanied by the smells of sweat, stale booze and sulphurous farts. His own performance only possible due to a random combination of whatever potions he had rummaged out of their packs. _Oh, thank the gods I didn't get into Sand's alchemy ingredients._ In other words, a truly sordid embarrassment.

On the other hand... all the vomit _had_ gone into the chamber pot. None on the bed, or on either of them. He _had_ performed, after a fashion. He remembered shuddering and straining in ecstasy, mumbling slurred endearments in Neeshka's ear. And he distinctly remembered her clutching at him, arching her back and shrieking in the throes of passion. Shrieking...

"_Oh yes! Oh, Leldon!!_"

_Alright, that's one memory I don't want. I need lots more to drink, right away. I wonder if Sand can create an amnesia potion._

_Then again... at least she did enjoy herself._

_So, on a scale of utter humiliating disaster through to perfect romantic bliss... maybe sordid embarrassment doesn't rate too badly._

He opened his eyes. Neeshka was sitting at the far end of the bed, leaning against the wall. She was stark naked, but her legs were drawn up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees and her tail around her ankles. _Uh oh. Not a good sign, not good at all._

She narrowed her eyes, and asked in a soft and dangerous voice, "Who's Retta?"

_Retta? She... No. I'm not going to talk about her. Not going to think about her. She's dead now, and it hurts too much and you wouldn't understand. You'd just be jealous and resentful. Or you'd mock me, and I couldn't bear that._

"Retta? She... she was a girl who lived in West Harbor. She was a few years older than me. She never really had anything to do with me, though I lusted after her hopelessly. All the boys did. But how did you... Oh. Oh hells, did I... did I call you Retta last night? Oh gods, how embarrassing! I'm really, really sorry." _I'm sorry Retta._

Neeshka looked at him levelly for a few seconds, and then relaxed. She dropped her arms down by her sides, and eased one leg out elegantly across the bed. Danno couldn't help staring with avid admiration, and she smirked complaisantly.

"Oh, by Sune and the Earthmother, you are so beautiful."

She blinked, as if startled, and then to Danno's surprise she blushed. "Gee. No-one's ever called me beautiful before. I mean, sure, they've called me lots of other things. 'Sexy', 'Doll Face', 'Hot Stuff'... and they always think _that_ one's sooo funny, but it gets real old real fast. And sometimes I've been called... really nasty things. You know? But never beautiful..." She tilted her head on one side, regarding him appraisingly. "You know, you're not so bad yourself. I mean, for a wizard."

Danno drew himself up in mock indignation. "Oh, thanks a lot. I might not be up front in battle, swinging a huge hammer and building up great, gleaming muscles," Neeshka rolled her eyes and moaned theatrically, "but I think I keep in pretty good shape. Hiking across the wilderness, trudging through endless dungeons..."

"Running like crazy from any big, bad monsters that get closer than fifty feet..."

"Well, I _rather_ like to think that I am preserving a vital member of the team, but if you _insist_ on regarding it as mere cowardice..."

Neeshka stuffed a fist in her mouth, and started shaking with suppressed laughter. Danno looked at her quizzically. "And what is so funny?"

"You.. you sound like... like Sand..."

Danno stared at her speechlessly, then collapsed back against the pillows and laid a limp hand across his forehead. "Oh no. Oh gods and demons, no! Please, kill me. Quickly, before the transformation is complete. Before... before the contagion spreads! Can you imagine it? An entire world of Sand? Oh the horror! The horror!"

He had to stop there, as Neeshka collapsed across the bed, laughing uncontrollably. He lay watching her, beautiful, happy... his. He thought his heart would burst with joy. He couldn't remember hearing her laugh properly before. He'd heard her snigger, giggle, snort, but never laugh. _Ugh, she has a horrible laugh, like a donkey with adenoids. I wish she laughed more often._

Slowly her laughter subsided into chortling hiccups, then she crawled up the bed to lie beside him. She stroked his face possessively. "No problem. I know something that'll take the Sand _right_ out of you. Trust me."

---

Some while later, Danno descended on trembling legs to the inn's public bar. Khelgar, Casavir and Grobnar were already there having breakfast together. Danno staggered over to them and collapsed on a chair between Casavir and Khelgar.

"Ale," he croaked. "For the love of Tyr, ale."

"Grief! Lad, what in the nine hells has happened to you?"

"Neeshka."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Khelgar started to his feet in alarm, reaching for his hammer. "What's happened? Is she alright?"

"No, you don't understand. Neeshka happened to me. The things... the things she likes to do with that tail of hers..." Danno closed his eyes and shuddered.

"Ah." Casavir, without further comment, pushed a very large tankard his way. Khelgar's face was a study, as horrified speculation gave way to utter disgust. "You mean she... and you _let_ her? Lad, have you no self respect? No decency?!"

Danno was just opening his mouth to ask Khelgar where in the nine hells he thought _letting_ her came into it (and to ask, with morbid curiosity, what Khelgar thought she had done), when Casavir commented soberly, "Sometimes Khelgar, in the heat of the moment, a man may agree to certain... practices that he would never have considered otherwise. And if he maintains an open mind, may even find them to be agreeable."

"Huh? And what would you know about it, Paladin?"

"Elanee is an elven druid, who has great experience of the cycles of life, gained over many years. She is also of a most enquiring turn of mind, on certain matters, and has an enthusiastically experimental approach to these things."

Khelgar and Danno were both dumbstruck. Grobnar, on the other hand, piped up with with the unquenchable enthusiasm he always brought to one of his favourite topics. "Oh, well, if you're carrying out experiments then there really is one person that you absolutely must consult."

"I really don't think..."

"Why, me! Grobnar Gnomehands! I must have forgotten more about conducting experiments than I've had hot dinners!"

"I can believe that," growled Khelgar.

"The important thing is to just go for it! And have an escape plan, of course. Or really fast reactions."

"What do we need an escape plan for?"

Casavir started violently at the sound of Elanee's voice, who had come up behind them and caught Grobnar's last remark. "It truly is nothing of import..." he started to say, but his words were swept away in the flood.

"Oh, Casavir was just saying that you two have been conducting experiments, and I was telling him that you really should have talked to me first. Why, I have endless experience of planning experiments, carrying them out, fixing them when they don't work... or surviving them when they work unexpectedly well. I'm certain that with my help you could be conducting experiments the likes of which you never imagined!"

"A terrifying prospect." Casavir's face was pale. Danno wondered if it was with anger or fear.

Elanee looked at his expression, and struggled to hide a smile. "They really aren't that kind of experiment, Grobnar" she said kindly.

"I... don't quite understand." Grobnar's expression was puzzled, and his voice rather plaintive. "An experiment is an experiment. Isn't it?"

"Let me explain," Elanee said with a sigh, and at Casavir's wordless exclamation of protest, "It really will save trouble in the long run." She sat on the bench beside Grobnar, leaned down, and began to whisper in his ear. Her explanations took a remarkably long time, and were clearly detailed and involved. Danno sat back and happily watched Grobnar's eyes growing wider and wider, and Casavir's face growing redder and redder. The farce playing out before him quite distracted him from his own abrupt and intense introduction to the more outlandish ways of love.

Until, of course, Neeshka came down from their room. She sauntered down the stairs looking like the cat that had got the cream, the mouse _and_ the best spot by the fire. She was chatting to Sand, but as they went over to the bar she grinned lasciviously at Danno and waved her tail seductively at him. Danno shivered with a mixture of dismay and arousal, and couldn't take his eyes off her.

_You enjoyed it really, didn't you? And you'd let her do it again, wouldn't you? Admit it._

_Oh yes. In a heartbeat, gods help me, in a heartbeat._

Elanee's long and whispered education of Grobnar into the 'other kind' of experiment drew to a close. She sat straight, took some food off Casavir's plate, and gave him the most remarkably demure and challenging look imaginable. Grobnar was speechless.

Very, very briefly.

"Oh my. But wouldn't that be terribly painful? As my uncle Glindor always said, 'If the piston's too big for the cylinder, it doesn't matter how much lubricant you use, it just won't go in'. I always thought he was talking about steam engines!" Grobnar frowned in vague irritation, faintly annoyed about this. "I found that if you hit it repeatedly with a really big hammer, the piston often does go in, although it hardly ever comes out again. I suppose in emergencies you could always use an Enlarge Person spell. Or maybe even transform into a Dire Wolf! I suppose all their parts are in proportion to their size?"

Elanee looked momentarily horrified, and then rather thoughtful. Grobnar chattered on happily, oblivious to the titanic explosion that was drawing itself to its full armoured height beside him.

"Of course, now that I think about it, if you used Polymorph and Shapechange spells on _both_ of you... why, the number of combinations would be almost limitless! Oh my, I feel quite dizzy just thinking about it. And if you also..."

Casavir swore profanely, for the first time since Danno had met him, and tried simultaneously to clap his hands over Elanee's ears and kick Grobnar across the room.

"Hey, what's going on? Are we having _another_ fight?" Neeshka sounded more curious than alarmed.

"Oh, Neeshka, Elanee's just been explaining to me the most remarkable things. It seems that..."

Elanee and Casavir both started talking to Neeshka very loudly and quickly indeed, but as Neeshka kept listening to Grobnar, and looking from one to the other with mounting disbelief and glee, Elanee finally caught hold of Grobnar and put her hand firmly over his mouth. Unfortunately, Grobnar just carried on regardless, spluttering enthusiastically through Elanee's fingers and gesticulating wildly. If anything, his gestures were even more graphic and lurid than his descriptions, and appeared to be veering off into ever wilder realms of obscene speculation.

In the end, Elanee gave up. She let go of Grobnar, sat down, and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Casavir stood trembling with helpless outrage, but finally, unable to save the situation by any act short of bloody murder, he also subsided. And, in spite of himself, also started to laugh.

At long last, Grobnar decided that he had to write this down before he forgot it, and hurried off to find his notebook. And Neeshka turned toward the bar, to where Sand was carefully keeping his distance and _not_ finding out what was going on.

"Hey, Sand, I really, really want to learn how to do magic. Transformation spells! I can do it, I _know_ I can. You've seen me doing traps, I can really concentrate, and I'm _real_ patient if I have to be. I can stake out a house for _days_ and not get bored! And I didn't learn locks in an afternoon, ohhh no! Come on, I'll even pay you..."

Danno clutched at Khelgar convulsively, and stared desperately into his face.

"Save me. Please, save me!"


	9. The Doldrums

**The Doldrums**

As the days went by, and gradually turned into weeks, Danno and the others slowly settled into the life of Athkatla.

Danno couldn't help finding an ironic amusement in this. Within a day of arriving, they had been desperately scrambling for cash to pay for passage on a ship bound North. Now that they had ample funds, there wasn't a berth on board any ship to be had for love nor money.

"It's the doldrums you see," the harbourmaster had explained. "We always lose the trade winds for a few weeks at the height of summer. Yes, yes, I know Sir, it's barely summer yet. The thing is, every five or ten years, especially if there's a drought like this one, the doldrums come early and last longer. To be honest with you, with them coming so early this year, I'd be surprised if we get a breath of wind before the winter storms."

"But... but Athkatla's one of the biggest trading ports there is!" Danno simply couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The whole city depends on the trade. Are you telling me everything just stops?"

The harbourmaster scratched his backside thoughtfully. "Well, no, not completely. Of course, it's a big blow to the city, years like this. Lots of small merchants go to the wall. But there is still a bit of trade. Lots of it goes out by land, along the trade road. You know Sir, the bulky non-perishables like ore, pig-iron, seasoned timber. You can see the first caravans setting off now, if you go to the East gate. Huge great carts, almost as big as ships, some of them, all Ox drawn of course. Ha, if you've got an Ox to sell, this year you could just about name your price!"

He was getting into his stride now. Trade was the livelihood, obsession and entertainment of the city, and this man was a true devotee.

"Takes them months just to get to Waterdeep though, and it gets worse later in the year, the roads just about collapse. You'd be quicker walking, honestly. Then at Waterdeep, well they never lose the trade winds there, but without the ships from here, folk going North to Neverwinter are just about killing each other for a berth. Not much room for passengers, not with cargo from the caravans stuffed into every nook.

"As for perishables and light goods..." he nodded at Danno approvingly, "well, you're right Sir, they do still go by boat. Boat, mind you, not ship. They've got to row out, you see, out into open ocean, and North too. Get clear of the doldrums and back into steady winds. The only passengers on those boats are ambassadors, or government... agents." He gave an exaggerated, conspiratorial wink. "If you know what I mean. Unless you turn up at the docks with a squad of soldiers and a writ signed by the Council, you're not getting on.

"And you wouldn't want to, not unless you like living dangerously. Boat like that, rowing out into the open ocean? Some of them never make shore again. Damn near half of them have to dump their cargo, and they... well, they're merchants, aren't they? Athkatla merchants. Generally the passengers 'fall overboard' before the cargo does."

Danno shook his head and turned away. The harbourmaster's almost lascivious tone, his sweaty, lip-smacking satisfaction, was going to give Danno nightmares for days to come. Even as he turned away, the harbourmaster caught his sleeve. He had an audience now, and was going to enjoy it.

"Oh, you find out who's out of favour with the Council in Doldrum Years. They all get promoted to ambassador, or Council Courier. I'll make a nice bit on the side this year, watching who's being put on the boats, and giving their names to the big merchant houses. Heh heh. Sometimes you can't tell who the soldiers are there to intimidate... the boatmaster, or the poor bastard they're escorting.

"Now Sir, is there anything else I can help you with? Any other questions you'd like answered?"

Danno tugged his arm free from the repulsive man's clutches. _I'll have to wash this robe._ "No. Please, by all the gods, just don't say any more."

"Oh. Oh well, right you are sir."

And so, faced with the choice of slogging all the way to Neverwinter on foot, or waiting and hoping for the doldrums to end before the winter storms set in, they waited.

This was easiest for Danno, Neeshka, Sand and Grobnar. Danno felt no particular loyalty to Neverwinter, and no especial urge to hurry back. True, Lord Nasher had saved his life with his near-fictional elevation to Squire, and had turned a blind eye to Danno's refusal to put loyalty to Neverwinter before his own conscience, but he had done so largely to frustrate Luskan ambition, and he had screwed his price out of Danno by dumping Crossroads Keep on him.

And aside from the keep, Danno had nothing to go back to. West Harbor was gone, everybody who had lived there killed. There were no survivors this time, not like the last time, when Ammon had faced the King of Shadows there. No one would ever go back, no one would ever rebuild. Bevil had made his life at the keep, that was clear. Daeghun might stay at the keep for a while, but Danno was sure he'd start wandering again soon enough. Danno felt a vague urge to find them both again, to reassure them that he'd survived, but he couldn't summon up any great sense of urgency.

Neeshka didn't seem too keen to return to Neverwinter either. When the group discussed the matter, she quickly mocked any schemes for getting back there overland. She never quite admitted that she wanted to stay in Athkatla, she even _said_ that of course she wanted to go home to Neverwinter. Danno didn't believe she was being honest with them or herself.

Neverwinter was as much her home as anywhere, it was true. She knew every alleyway, every lock, every window, every crook and pretty much every watchman in the place. Athkatla, on the other hand, was new and exciting, and compared to Neverwinter it was huge. It was like a vast, glittering new toy for her to play with; full of bright lights and pretty baubles.

Plus, in Athkatla, she had her best and newest toy all to herself. In Neverwinter they would always be taking it away from her, dragging it off to meetings and councils, burying it under piles of paperwork, rubbing off its shine with duty and responsibility. Here in Athkatla she could play with it almost whenever she wanted, brand new games that she had never played before. Games of affection; games in which her new toy respected her, told her she was wonderful; games where it reassured her, and promised her that everything would be alright. And in their most intimate games her new toy didn't bully, intimidate, hurt or demean her, as had happened so often before (and which she would die before she would admit to), but let her dominate or surrender as she wished.

No, in truth, Neeshka was in no hurry to leave Athkatla at all.

Sand did want to return to Neverwinter. Neverwinter was the enemy of Luskan, and it was close to Luskan – the closest that he could get without being destroyed. Luskan drew Sand, as a candle draws a moth; in this case a moth with a very strong sense of self preservation. But Sand was not old for an elf. He had many centuries ahead of him, and Luskan wasn't going anywhere. For the time being there was a great deal of learning in Athkatla, a surprising amount of arcane learning if one had the right contacts. Sand could wait for the others to decide what they were doing, and travelling in company would be safer.

Grobnar was... well, Grobnar. He didn't call any place home, and seemed to be content wherever he was. Danno couldn't help comparing him with the odd little wandering halfling, Guyver. Guyver travelled because he loved the road and always wanted to see what was round the next corner. Grobnar travelled because he barely knew where he was anyway, and if there happened to be a story round the next corner, then why not go there? Because as soon as he got there, there became here, and here was as good a place to be as anywhere.

For the others in the group, Athkatla chafed. Casavir felt that his duty compelled him to remain with the others and protect them. He was torn between this and his duty to return either to Old Owl Well or to Neverwinter. Conflicting with both of these was his urgent desire to go wherever Elanee wanted to go, and Elanee wanted to be almost anywhere _except_ Athkatla. She had hated Neverwinter, felt cut off from nature and trapped within the mazes of its streets. She had seen the lives of the people there as warped mockeries of what they should have been; unable to genuinely despise them, she had felt both disgust for them and distress on their behalf.

Athkatla, then, was a waking nightmare for her. Once their immediate danger seemed to be past, she quickly moved out of the city itself and found a room on a smallholding close by the city walls. She found a great deal of relief in helping the smallholder cope with the drought, encouraging him to let die whatever couldn't grow, to let flourish whatever would, and to learn how to use those plants (and animals) that did well – even the ones commonly regarded as weeds or pests.

Even so, she didn't want to be so near Athkatla. She longed to head North, to return to the edges of her beloved Merdelain and try to do what she could to heal it. As long as Casavir felt duty bound to remain with the others, though, she remained as close to him as she could bear. Casavir divided his time between her and the rest of the group as best he could, and fretted.

Khelgar simply wanted to return to his people as quickly as possible. Somewhere along the way, he had quietly discarded his wanderlust. He'd achieved his dream of becoming a warrior monk, and had found it both emptier and more fulfilling than he had realised it would be. The formidable fighting skills he'd developed had proved, ultimately, to be meaningless. Learning the _purpose_ of those fighting skills had been his true prize, and when he'd taken up the Hammer of Ironfist he'd also taken up the responsibility for leading his clan. To turn them from their insular ways, to teach them that the fight for justice was more important than the fight for self advantage, that was his new guiding light.

He would never willingly abandon his friends, but his path was laid before him. He had a duty and a responsibility to an entire nation. If the rest of the group chose to remain in Athkatla when he set off for the North, then he'd bid them a regretful farewell, and leave. His only problem was how to travel, by ship or on foot? If the doldrums did lift, then journey by ship would be much faster – and hideously uncomfortable unless he got his sea legs. If the doldrums were going to last until the winter storms, then he should set out on foot immediately.

For the time being he watched the weather, and hesitated.

* * *

"I dunno why you keep going off doing jobs. I mean, we're rich, right?"

Neeshka lay on her stomach, her chin propped on her hand, watching Danno as he dressed.

Danno, pulling on his robes, frowned vaguely at a frayed spot. "Not all that rich. What you got from Ammon's place isn't going to last forever, especially not since we got a magic license for you too, and it looks like we're here for a while. Maybe even until spring. Rooms in this place don't come cheap, and I don't want to move back to the Coronet, with those thin walls. Honestly, I don't think I could cope with Khelgar's snoring again."

"Yeah, I guess." She pulled a face, and rubbed her ear. "But why do you keep getting jobs with the watch? They're worse than in Neverwinter, real hardasses."

_Ah, and that's the real problem, isn't it?_ "I keep getting jobs with the watch because they need arcane help in hunting Jerro's Demon, and they're prepared to pay handsomely to get it."

Neeshka sniggered. "I reckon they need all the help they they can get. I mean, it doesn't even exist! What are they hunting, bed-time stories? Hey, you could start putting up wanted posters for avariels. Or the Wendersnaven! That'd be really funny."

Danno sighed. "Mostly what we're hunting is common murderers. Thieves who are too clumsy and stupid to lift a purse, so they just slash their victims... only these days they slash them almost to pieces. Husbands who beat their wives to death, and think they can get away with it by blaming the Demon." He paused, unsure if he should go on. He gave her a wary, thoughtful look. _Maybe she can help. Will she?_ "But... I'm afraid there's a cult forming; people who think they can attract Jerro's Demon, the Pit Assassin, by mimicking its murders. So far, I think it's just a group of lunatics egging each other on, but if someone smart gets their claws into it..."

"Urgh. And you want to get _involved_?" She shook her head, snapped her tail angrily. "You should be smart, keep _well_ away from all that. You're wasting your time with the watch, anyway. You want to do something about it, you talk to the people who _know_ what's going on."

_Ah, that's the angle_! "Ah, but I'm relying on you for that, aren't I? It's a good partnership, I get news from one side of the law, you get news from the other."

"Awww, Danno, you _know_ that's all behind me now. I mean, I wouldn't lie to _you_, right?"

"Heh. It's alright, I was only teasing." He smiled at her, ruffled her hair, nearly got his hand spiked by a horn when she tossed her head irritably. "And I'm glad you're out of that, I'd hate to think you were involved with the Shadow Thieves. They're more like a cross between a merchant company and a nation than a gang of thieves. Get involved with them, I don't think you'd ever shake loose. And it would be just like you to start dealing with them without thinking, wouldn't it?"

"What!? Oh sure, get real. Come on, I didn't start thieving yesterday! In this town I work _strictly_ solo... oh, hells hells hells!"

"Ah ha!" Danno clapped his hands in triumph. "I knew it!" Neeshka buried her head in her arms in embarrassment at being caught out, then lifted it again and glared at him.

He held up his hands in mock self-defence, trying to smile disarmingly. "Oh, don't look like that. You know I'm not all that fussed about the niceties of the law, so long as nobody's getting hurt; and gods know there are enough rich bastards in this city who deserve to be robbed. Just... be a bit discriminating who you go for, alright?"

"I... I guess."

She looked sulky, but at least she didn't argue the point.

Danno sat on the bed beside her, gently rubbed her back. _This is going to be tricky. She won't like this at all._ She briefly tangled his chain of thought by wrapping her tail round his wrist, guiding his hand down her lithe back to the base of her tail, and just a _little_ lower... "Ahem! Yes, and... um... oh, right. And... and keep your eyes and ears open when you're fencing stuff; please?" He carefully but firmly (and regretfully) moved his hand higher up her back. "I was serious about this being a partnership. It would really help track down some of these murderers and lunatics if we knew where they were fencing the stuff they take."

"Hey! No way!" She flicked her tail, slapping his hand away, and thumped his leg with her fist. "I'm not turning in my fences to the watch! Don't you dare..."

"Neeshka! Neeshka, calm down! I'm not asking you to turn anyone in! Oh, look, there isn't a fence in this city the watch don't know about. Half the time the watch are selling confiscated property to them, and the rest of the time they're buying equipment from them. I doubt there's a watchman in the city who hasn't got a hidden knife with an illegal enchantment on it."

"Oh. Gee, really?" She twisted round a bit, looking up at him in surprise.

_Hey, something seamy I know about that she doesn't! Who'd have thought it_? He grinned cheerfully. Reassuringly. "Yes, really. But it's all unofficial, and pretty delicate. They can't go round asking too many questions without annoying the fences. But if they knew _which_ fences to talk to, and which fences to bribe... well, everything could be kept nice and low key, and the only ones who'd suffer would be the fences who know they're dealing with murderers, and trying to keep it quiet. You wouldn't mind a few of those having a hard time, would you? After all, they're the dangerous ones, aren't they? The one's who'd cut you for a nice piece if they didn't like your price?"

Neeshka narrowed her eyes. "You are learning _way_ too much about being a thief, y'know?"

Danno chuckled. "Ah, that's the Athkatla watch for you. Even freelancers like me get our horizon's broadened. And you _want_ me to be broad minded, don't you?"

"Ohhhh yes." Neeshka slowly rolled over onto her back, and gazed at Danno through half-lidded eyes. "Awww, come on. Wouldn't you like to spend today here? A nice, hot, sticky day in bed, just the two of us?"

Danno swallowed hard. It took a great effort of will not to rip his clothes off again and leap on top of her. Instead, he bent down and kissed her gently. She caught his hand and brushed his fingers lightly across her breast. Danno broke the kiss, gasping.

"Ahhh! Oh, you fiend, I'll be walking in a crouch all day now, I swear!"

"Good. Serves you right."

Danno stood up awkwardly, trying to adjust himself. "Will you be studying with Sand again today?" He knew she would, she always did, but asking her had become a bit of a game between them, a little ritual. She shrugged, feigning boredom as always.

"I dunno. Maybe, maybe not."

"You should. You're getting really good. You'll be better than me soon."

Neeshka tried to look indifferent, then gave up the unequal struggle and grinned broadly. "I know. Sand's really impressed. He hardly ever calls me 'tiefling' now. He's all Neeshka this and Young Lady that. I think he's even getting a bit jealous."

"He should be." Danno loved flattering her, but he really meant this. Once she'd got the bit between her teeth, she had come on fast. Her style was exceedingly curious. She was learning spells like a wizard, studying (with ferocious, if erratic, concentration) the words and gestures that conjured up the effects she wanted. Having learnt a spell, however, she could cast it repeatedly before having to memorise it again. Sand had conjectured that her magic was in part intrinsic, much as the magic of a warlock or sorcerer was, deriving from her demonic heritage.

She had another oddity of skill. Once she had learnt a simple spell, she found it easier to learn a more advanced version of that spell than a completely different spell that was just as simple. As a result, the range of spells she could cast was very narrow, but the power of those spells could be formidable, especially considering she was still a novice. Her ability to remain invisible for hours at a time, or to sow fear and confusion among her (so far theoretical) enemies was way beyond what she should have been able to manage.

Her only real problem (but a serious one) was that she only managed to cast successfully when she was calm and focused. If she was excited, or distracted, her attempts tended to go horribly awry. Sand had extracted a solemn promise from her to _never_ use magic in combat – for fear of what might happen to the rest of them.

Danno smiled fondly at her, and on impulse made the most generous offer he could think of. "I'll tell you what, when you're exhausting me into unconsciousness tonight, so you can slip out unseen..."

"Oh hells, you know about that?"

"...we can have another try at that Polymorph Other spell you're learning. You nearly got it last time, just a bit more practice and I'm sure it'll work right."

Neeshka smiled at him dangerously. "I dunno. I think you looked cute being a wolf just from the waist down. I just need to get it to last longer. You know – just long enough." She licked her lips eagerly.

"Neeshka, I couldn't even walk!"

"Couldn't run away either, could you?" Neeshka giggled. "You're crouching again."

"Thank you, yes, I had noticed. You do realise the watch are starting to think there's something wrong with me? Whenever they mention demons I think of you, and I start walking funny. They probably think I'm having an affair with Jerro's Demon. Oh, I'm glad _you_ think it's funny. Look, I'll see you later. I do love you."

"Yeah, 'course you do. Later!"

Danno left, shaking his head in amused despair. Neeshka was, of course, still obsessed with the... _recreational_ possibilities of the polymorph spell, but to Danno's relief her studies had rather stalled in this area.

_Of course, if only she'd practice Polymorph Self more... not much chance of that, though._ His mind's eye was filled with the beguiling image of a small, highly indignant chicken. A chicken with horns and a serpentine tail, clucking furiously while Sand laughed hysterically.

Neeshka had refused outright to ever try that spell again.

Danno hurried down to the public bar, his fist stuffed in his mouth so she wouldn't hear him giggling.

Khelgar and Casavir were both in the public bar, talking quietly about the weather. _Ah, the topic of choice in Athkatla this year. 'The uncle of a friend of my barber says he felt a breeze this morning! Do you suppose... could it be?' Ugh. And now they're at it!_

"Casavir," he called out brightly. "Are you joining me and Khelgar today?"

Khelgar usually teamed up with him, though the watch only paid him a modicum, but Casavir often spent his days with Elanee. Both of them, though, felt responsible for the city's troubles with "Jerro's Demon", and helped as far as they could.

To be precise, both of them felt that Danno was responsible, and irritated him daily by loudly and ostentatiously failing to say so.

Casavir nodded thoughtfully. "If what Khelgar has told me of this... 'Pit Assassin' cult should prove to be true, then you may need my aid. The Athkatla watch are tough and resourceful men, but they have poor equipment and limited combat experience."

"And getting' yer ear chewed off by the elf lass has nothing to do with it, huh?"

Danno glanced at Khelgar in surprise, then turned to Casavir. "Is there a problem? I mean, um, one we can help with?"

Casavir looked sternly at Khelgar, who was grinning behind his beard, then shook his head and smiled reassuringly – if a little thinly. "It is nothing, truly. Elanee is..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "She is restless, and impatient. She does not believe the doldrums will break before winter, and that we should set off for Neverwinter, and Merdelain, as soon as may be."

He paused again, then speaking slowly and more softly, admitted "I advised patience; there are many decisions to be taken, and not lightly. Elanee was somewhat... exasperated."

"You mean she shouted you out of that... that hut you share, and all the way here, with yer tail between yer legs." Khelgar seemed to be enjoying Casavir's discomfort immensely. "Can't say as I blame her."

He turned to Danno, his good humour fading. "She's right lad, and you know it. We're wasting our time here, waitin' for winds that aren't coming. We should be off, and soon at that."

For a short while Danno said nothing. Then he sighed and said, "Let's get everyone together tonight and talk about this."

"Again? Lad, we've chewed this over till it's soft as gruel. The winds aren't coming, lad, and we should be going." Khelgar was scowling now, his own frustration coming through.

"It... it isn't as simple as that." Danno shifted awkwardly. "There are a lot of complications, like..."

"Like Neeshka?"

Casavir's question stopped him dead. He looked down, studying his shoes intently. _Amazing, really, how interesting my feet are at times like this._

Eventually, he looked up at Khelgar. "She loves it here." _Damn, why do I sound so apologetic?! What's wrong with me?_ "She really does love it here."

Khelgar looked away, both embarrassed and impatient. Casavir, on the other hand, briefly gripped Danno's shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic look.

"Perhaps," he said, "we should all talk together tonight. About parting company. It will come to that some day," he hurried on, speaking over Danno's protest. "I do not say we must part company immediately. But we should at least speak of it."

Danno found himself staring at his shoes again. _He's right, damn him. But I don't want to lose them!_ Then he pulled himself together. "You're right. We need to talk about this. But later?"

"Later."

Khelgar nodded, and mumbled "Aye, lad. Later."

Danno tried to grin, failed, and settled for a strained smile. "First though, shall we go hunting imaginary demons?"

---

The morning wore on in a tedium of false leads, cold trails and sulkily uncooperative not-quite witnesses. Khelgar had the best luck in getting people's stories out of them, in spite of his habit of insulting them without really realising it. But whatever his diplomatic failings, he wasn't City watch, he wasn't an armour-clad paladin (who made most citizens nervous, rich or poor), and he most certainly wasn't a wizard.

Danno had rarely felt quite so disliked as he did in Athkatla. Even the furious hatred he had encountered in the Githyanki had seemed more personal and less upsetting than this distrust on general principles. He'd always thought prejudice was wrong, now he believed so with a burning fervour – and constantly had to remind himself not to despise 'those bloody Athkatlan bigots' en masse.

Finally the members of the watch called a halt for lunch. They headed to the nearest watch house to eat, while Danno and the other two wandered into the Government district in search of a food stall that had edible fare. They had just started eating, when Danno heard the shouting and commotion – and two voices he knew.

"Let go of me! I haven't done anything!"

"I protest, this is unlawful! Oh, please, a writ from the Council does _not_ give you the right to break the law, if that is a valid writ which I _very_ much doubt!"

Khelgar looked up in surprise and irritation. "By the nine hells, what has she got herself into now?"

For a moment Danno thought her thieving must have caught up with her. But in that case, why was Sand involved? Then they came into view, and Danno realised that matters were a lot more serious, and a lot more dangerous, than an accusation of theft.

Neeshka was being dragged along by two guards, with a blade held at her throat. She was wild eyed, and there was a thin trickle of blood running down her neck. She was shouting at them, but not daring to struggle. There were five other guards keeping pace with drawn swords, looking alertly about them. That struck Danno as ominous, that they weren't looking at the prisoner, but were looking for threats from outside. The guards, however, were a mere detail. Striding along with them were six robed and hooded figures, their faces hidden and wands at the ready.

_Shit! Shit, damn and blast!_ Cowled Wizards, the hidden terror of Athkatla. Danno knew the wands were for show; these wizards would have their spells all memorised and ready, and there would be dozens of others scrying the scene, ready to arrive through gateways within moments if needed.

Sand was clearly not under arrest. He was scurrying along beside the group, berating the guard sergeant, who was clutching a scroll with an impressive looking seal. The Cowled Wizards were ignoring Sand completely. To add the final touches to the scene, a growing crowd was following them, shouting angrily. Danno briefly imagined they were shouting at the soldiers and wizards... until he heard _what_ they were shouting.

"Demon!"

"Murderer!"

"Burn her!"

_Oh gods, they think she's Jerro's Demon!_ The group were heading for the prison, and Danno knew, without even thinking about it, that if Neeshka went in there she was never coming out... except to be burned in public. He did the only thing he could think of. He summoned the most powerful elemental he could, and stepped in front of them, smiling amiably. Instantly there were five swords and six wands levelled and pointing at him.

"Good afternoon!" He addressed the foremost Cowled Wizard. "What seems to be the problem here?"

The hooded figure seemed momentarily taken aback. _What do they know about me? About us? What do they suspect? How will they react?_ The wizard finally spoke.

"You are interfering with the city watch in the lawful pursuit of their duties..."

"Lawful!" exclaimed Sand. "I hardly think that bursting into..."

"IN THE LAWFUL PURSUIT OF THEIR DUTIES! You will stand aside or you will be arrested!"

Sand, realising that he had just made things worse, fell silent. Danno felt rather than saw Casavir and Khelgar falling into position, close enough to charge forward and protect him from the soldiers, giving him space and time to start casting, far enough that he could dart back behind the elemental. _And how much longer will _that_ last?_ Sand hesitated, then quietly edged behind the elemental. _He's brave, I'll give him that. He knows we can't win a fight, not against the Cowled Wizards, but he'll give it his best._ Danno widened his smile, and raised his voice slightly. The crowd had fallen silent and he wanted them to hear this.

"Come now, you must know that I'm currently working with the watch hunting Jerro's Demon. And you must know that I travelled for some time with both Ammon Jerro and this young lady. It sounds, from what these fine citizens are saying, that she has been accused of the Demon's crimes. Is that so? I can assure you..." giving the wizard no time to respond "... that she is certainly no conjuring of Jerro's, and is quite incapable of these terrible killings.

"In any case, you are surely aware that Ammon Jerro attempted to murder all of us, _including_ her, in order to prevent us warning the city of his intentions. That my two colleagues here did indeed give this warning to the temples of Helm and Illmater, at great risk to their own lives."

"To the temples," interrupted the wizard dryly. "_Not_ to the city authorities."

Danno spread his hands disarmingly. "With hindsight I can see we were mistaken. But it did appear that Jerro had the shelter and assistance of both the Council of Six and your good selves. We can hardly be blamed for being wary." Ah, and _that_ got the crowd murmuring. Their hysteria regarding Jerro's Demon was a new fancy. Their love-hate relationship with the Cowled Wizards was old and deep rooted. They depended on the Wizards for protection – and believed them capable of any dark dealings.

The Cowled Wizard was briefly stumped, but then rallied. "All persons of demonic heritage or taint are to be questioned, by order of the Council. The demon-spawn will be taken to the prison..."

"_**No!**_" Danno hurriedly tried to moderate his tone. "I suggest that you release her into my custody. We will attend the Council of Six at their next public sessions, and they can put any questions to her that they wish."

"Are you...? Do you dare to dictate to us?!"

Danno had been thinking furiously while he talked. Now he hardened his voice. "I am Danno Benner, Knight Captain of Neverwinter and Lord of Crossroads keep, appointed to that position by Lord Nasher in person. If you attempt to take my companion into that prison, then you will have to kill me first. Can you _afford_ to do that?

"_Think!_ You are labouring under a drought, dependant on imported food for your very survival. The doldrums are strangling your trade, the lifeblood of your city. Can you _afford_ a diplomatic incident with one of your largest trading partners? One who has binding treaties of aid and succour with Waterdeep, your second largest partner? Can you _afford_ a trade war? Do you really want to be dependent on Calimshan, of all nations, for your trade and survival?

"My companion here," gesturing to one side, "is Khelgar Ironfist, the _King_ of the Ironfist clan. He carries the Hammer of Ironfist, by all the gods! The Northern clans may argue among each other, but can you imagine how they would react if one of their Kings was killed by outsiders? By _you_?! Do you know how much of your weaponry and armour is crafted by the Northern clans? How much of your _best_ weaponry and armour is?" _I hope not, because I certainly don't_

Softening his tone, but still projecting to the crowd, Danno continued. "You're an educated man. You know that Empires have fallen through such combinations of circumstance. Do you really want to be the man who brought poverty and ruin to Athkatla?"

_And that's it, my best throw of the dice. Never been much good at bluffing. Has it worked this time? _Danno could hear the urgent whispering of the crowd, as they discussed his little performance. They were convinced alright, greedy little shopkeepers that they were. But the Cowled Wizard... Danno's heart sank at the sight of his face, at his expression of contempt.

_Oh gods, now what? Fight? We can't! They've got a blade at her throat, she'll die! And then we'll die._

A nasty, miserable thought wormed its way to the surface. _She'd die quickly. Cleanly. Better than torture, or burning. Oh gods. We have to fight._

The Cowled Wizard opened his mouth and took a deep breath. Before he could speak, there was the sound of rapidly marching footsteps entering the grand square behind Danno. Lots of marching footsteps. _Armoured_ footsteps, accompanied by the clattering of shields and scabbards. Then a voice rang out.

"Hold, in the name of the Council! This arrest is unlawful!"


	10. Uncertain Refuge

**Uncertain Refuge**

"Hold, in the name of the Council! This arrest is unlawful!"

_What!?_ Danno didn't dare look round to see who was speaking, didn't dare turn away from the Cowled Wizards.

"By order of the Council of Six, the Tiefling is to be released into the custody of Lady De'Arnise. Resist the will of the Council at your peril!"

_Who in the nine hells is... What the hells is going on?_ Danno was somewhat reassured by the wizard's expression, which had changed from contemptuous self confidence to enraged frustration. Over his shoulder, Danno saw one of the guards holding Neeshka turn in confusion toward his sergeant, letting his sword sag away from her throat... and with a desperate heave she had wrenched herself out of their startled hands and darted clear of the group to Danno's side.

He ached to throw his arms round her, reassure her, reassure himself that she was alright, but the danger was too urgent for that, and armoured footsteps were marching up beside him. He glanced quickly to one side, seeing not Casavir but a young soldier who's bearing shouted 'officer'. He looked remarkably like Nevalle, and was carrying a larger scroll than the guard sergeant, with a more ornate seal.

_Oh, so _that's _how politics works. They beat each other with their writs and proclamations, and the one with the biggest scroll and the fanciest seal is the winner. I think I'm a bit hysterical. _The officer was just about to address the Cowled Wizard when Danno heard a terrible, deadly sound at his side. The sound of Neeshka snarling fragmentary syllables. _No!_ He twisted toward her. An expression of wild fury twisted her face, and her hand was raised. _Neeshka don't, we can't... _the words had no time to come out. A glowing sphere leapt from her hand, and burst in the middle of the guards and Cowled Wizards.

Danno had never seen anything like it. Instantly the spell hit, every single guard and wizard dropped, with cries of shock and bewilderment. They lay struggling and kicking on the ground, their legs... their legs short, furred, and ending in paws. _Gods! Wolf-From-the-Waist-Down! The ideal spell for kinky sex _and_ disabling enemies._ With a heroic effort the Cowled Wizard leading them managed to get onto his hands and feet, only to find that he couldn't gesture to cast a spell without falling down again. He tried chanting a gesture-less spell, but began spluttering helplessly on his large, pink, lolling tongue. One of the guards had also got onto all fours, only to collapse when one back leg returned to normal. Another was desperately pawing at his furry muzzle...

Their cries of alarm rose to a crescendo of shouts, screams, yelps and howls, as the stricken guards and wizards began changing erratically and piecemeal between wolf and human. The crowd had fled. Danno, his companions, and the newly arrived soldiers were stunned into silence...

"Tyr's titties!"

...except for Khelgar, who wasn't saying anything useful.

Neeshka was alternately staring at her hand and her victims with a look of astonishment on her face, and Sand was making little shocked noises.

Danno's elemental faded away, without commenting on the situation.

The young officer pulled himself together and turned urgently to Neeshka. "My lady, this writ" gesturing with the scroll he held "has as much legal force as that one." He indicated the scroll dropped by the unfortunate guard sergeant. "And, I fear, as little. It would be far safer if you and your companions withdraw to Lady De'Arnise's estate before the Cowled Wizards decide they have the courage and the authority to... Oh dear." Gateways were forming around them, dozens of gateways.

The Officer sighed. "I don't suppose" he asked wistfully "that you can cast that remarkable spell again?" Neeshka's look of astonishment was replaced by one of gleeful anticipation.

"Sure I can, lots of times. No problem!"

The gateways collapsed and closed with almost unseemly haste.

"Ah. Excellent. In that case, may I have the pleasure of escorting you and your friends..."

"And when you have 'escorted' Neeshka into this Lady De'Arnise's custody," Danno interrupted, "what then?"

"Then, I'm afraid, it all gets rather political. But I give you my word, there will be no interrogation, no torture, and no executions."

One of the stricken Cowled Wizards started alternately swearing and growling at the officer. Danno decided this was convincing enough for him.

"Neeshka? Do you want to trust this man?"

"Erm, sure. I mean, he looks alright. And I'm not so sure how long that spell will last. Kinda looks like it's slowing down, you know?"

"Then perhaps we could leave _now_ my lady, good sirs? We do have quite a long way to go."

* * *

They arrived at the De'Arnise estate in the early evening. Four soldiers had been despatched at a run to search the taverns of Athkatla for Grobnar, and had caught up with them as they reached the smallholding where Elanee was staying. There had been absolutely no sign of her, and the companions had to repeatedly call out that they weren't under guard or arrest before she appeared from the nearby woodland.

Danno watched from a slight distance as Casavir explained to her the little they knew of what was going on. As he concluded his account he looked at her, not nervously, but a little warily; concerned that she should be reassured, Danno guessed, and perhaps anxious that she would dig her heels in over trusting their... rescuers? Danno himself was still wavering over this point.

Elanee smiled gently, and touched Casavir's hand reassuringly as she said something in reply. Danno felt a slight pang of envy, and couldn't help glancing over to Neeshka as she boasted enthusiastically (for the twentieth time) to the jittery Sand that _of course_ she could safely reproduce and control her wonderful new misfire of a spell. Neeshka, Danno thought, would never be gentle or reassuring, no matter how bad things got for him. She might be passionate, exciting, eager, loyal (jealous, sulky, resentful...), but there was nothing kind or comforting about her. He wondered, briefly, if he regretted... no.

No, he didn't regret ignoring Elanee's early, veiled advances. He had been honest, that evening in the inn, when he said that she was a wonderful person and that he hated her. _Well, maybe 'hate' is putting it too strongly._ There were things about her that he was drawn to, but he thought that he might never be able to look at her without (at times) seeing Amie, crumpled on the ground, and wondering if Elanee could have saved her if only she had intervened.

"Lad, are you alright?" Khelgar was fidgeting with the hammer of Ironfist, clearly ill at ease.

"What? Oh, yes. Just thinking."

"Thinking, eh? Not about anything good, if I'm any judge. See anyone 'thinking' with a face like that before a fight, you don't want them watching your back, if you take my meaning. As likely to stand there and get clobbered as throw a punch themselves."

Danno shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts, glanced around, checking on their apparent rescuers, making sure his companions weren't being edged away from him. _He's right. Concentrate on what matters._ "Really, I'm fine. I was thinking... to be honest, I was thinking about Elanee."

Khelgar regarded him with some surprise. "Huh? And here I was guessing your mind was on the tiefling. Now her and a long face, that I can understand. But the elf-lass? I don't see it."

"Don't worry, it really isn't important." Danno relaxed a little as Elanee and Casavir approached. _At least we're together again. Can't fight when we're split up, not properly._ The young officer was calling out orders, brisk and efficient. "Looks like we're off again, to wherever it is we're going. Still, march to our doom with a steady step and no looking back, that's us, eh?"

"Are you sure you weren't thinking about Neeshka, lad?"

---

The De'Arnise residence wasn't what Danno had expected. Given the rather pretentious family name, and the way people called it an 'estate', he had conjured up images of a stately mansion set in rolling parkland. Instead it looked even more solid and warlike than Crossroads Keep. Without the outer curtain wall, or the wide-open courtyard filled with homely businesses, it squatted menacingly on the landscape, a brutal mass of stone.

He had quietly asked Sand, as they travelled, if he knew anything of this Lady De'Arnise. Sand hadn't been very helpful.

"I admit, I have heard her name. I said nothing, because I really know little of use. Her reputation is of a kindly woman devoted to good causes, a fine administrator of her estates and beloved by those she rules over. However, a little over a year ago she secured a seat on the council of six, and _their_ reputation is... well not to put too fine a point on it, their reputation is one of sordid greed, cruel oppression and constant plotting and infighting. It _rather_ brings back memories of the Hostower, don't you feel? If she has thrown in her lot with those people, then I think it only wise of us to question her motives."

As they clattered across the drawbridge of the De'Arnise residence, the low sun casting their shadows before them into the gloomy inner yard, Danno felt a growing sense of unease. He'd been working up to now on the uncertain principle of 'my enemy's enemy is my friend'. Now, he started mentally reviewing the strongest spells he had memorised.

He glanced around at the others. Sand and Elanee both had familiar, withdraw expressions as they did the same. Khelgar and Casavir had unobtrusively loosened the bindings on their weapons, _and if I can spot that then these soldiers 'protecting' us can as well._ Neeshka showed absolutely no sign of preparing for a fight – except that the faint outline of the dagger she kept tucked away in her boot was missing. _Damn, she must have slipped it up her sleeve. When did she do that?_

Grobnar, entirely oblivious as always, was cheerfully chattering away to the officer, admiring the drawbridge mechanism.

"Oh my, yes. Much sturdier than the gate mechanism at Crossroad Keep. Why, that would fall apart with hardly any hammering at all! Actually, there's a rather amusing story about that. You see..."

_How does he do it? How does he turn a bitter tale of deceit and treachery into 'a rather amusing story'? One of these days, surely even Grobnar will wake up and see the world for what it is. And I suppose, when he does, the world will be that much darker and drearier than it is already._

Gloomy, tense and braced for combat, Danno allowed their 'escorts' to usher him into the keep interior. Massive, squared off stonework seemed to shrug off the vain attempts at softening it with tapestries and rugs. Shadows lurked in the corners and between the torches flickering in their sconces. The companions were shown into a large and impressive audience chamber, surrounded by galleries and narrow doorways – ideal for sudden ambushes.

"Oh you poor thing, you must have been terrified!"

Neeshka never had a chance. With all the precision of an assassin's strike she was ambushed, in a swirl of long skirts and auburn hair, by a woman who managed to project an air of earnest sympathy and boundless, patronising condescension.

"And such a weary journey here after your ordeal, you must be absolutely exhausted. Now you come with me, and we'll get you into a nice hot bath, and you can tell me all about it. Rupert! Take care of this poor girl's friends, anything they want. No, no, it is quite alright child, it's no trouble at all, I don't mind in the slightest..."

In a stream of words Neeshka was extricated from the group and guided inexorably towards a door that led yet further into the keep interior. Soldiers left the audience chamber in a clatter, and servants flooded in. Neeshka looked back towards Danno with a frantic and bewildered expression, as a footman (the richness of whose clothes would have put Lord Nasher to shame) offered him a drink, tiny fragments of food on a silver tray, and "If Sir wishes to refresh himself before he dines, the bathrooms are but a step this way..."

"STOP RIGHT THERE! Where are you taking Neeshka!?"

The woman looked at him with a kind, and rather puzzled expression. "Why, to bathe and refresh herself, and to heal her wounds. It is the least I can do. I am afraid that our evening meal won't be ready for a little while, but you are free to enjoy the hospitality of my estate until then."

Danno hesitated, uncertain how to react. The woman, apparently the Lady De'Arnise, was unarmed and friendly. The servants were pushy, but not threatening. And yet he was certain that he didn't want Neeshka to be isolated, spirited away by this strange person. All he could think to say was "We stay together," in a flat and angry tone.

The Lady De'Arnise looked faintly outraged. "My dear sir, it would be most improper for her to bathe in the company of so many gentlemen! And I hesitate to say so, but you really should consider bathing yourselves. After your journey here, in this heat, you don't smell too good." She paused, and regarded him carefully, then sighed. "You don't trust me, do you? Believe me, if I meant you harm, I wouldn't need to separate you from each other."

Before Danno could consider what she meant by this, she gestured, a quick flicker of her fingers... and in less than the blink of an eye she was there, right there in front of him! With Neeshka's hidden dagger held lightly in her fingers, its tip resting just between two of his ribs. For a second she simply looked up into his eyes. There was a gentle, friendly smile on her round, open face - and hard steel in her gaze.

_Gods, she can cast Time Stop! And she... she can't be more then ten years older than me, if that! How can she be so powerful so young!_

Then she took a step back, and the dagger was held handle toward him. "But I don't mean you harm. Any of you. You have nothing to fear from me, and I will do everything in my power to protect you from the Cowled Wizards." She gently pressed the dagger into his nerveless fingers, then turned and walked briskly back to Neeshka.

"Now, shall we go?" She took hold of the stunned Neeshka's arm gently. "I gather you're learning to be a mage. I'm sure I can give you a few pointers, and perhaps you can teach me a thing or two. I must confess, I was watching you earlier with a Wizard's Eye, so much more reliable than scrying, and I saw that extraordinary spell you used against Altan and his cronies. I haven't laughed so much in years. You really must show me how it's done..." And on a soothing flow of words she steered Neeshka gently out of the room.

---

Danno came to the conclusion, much later, that the Lady De'Arnise must have used a mind affecting spell on them while they were Time Stopped. He and the others seemed to just drift along in a state of stunned compliance for over an hour. They were very politely and very pointedly urged into ornate bathrooms; they were given brand new clothes, with all their weapons and enchanted items carefully returned to them; they were ushered into a sitting room that (bizarrely) was open to the sky and filled with small trees growing in large tubs and troughs; and they were constantly plied with drinks and dainties.

Danno fretted of course, protesting to the others that they knew nothing of this Lady De'Arnise, that she could be doing anything to Neeshka. But Casavir and Elanee claimed that they saw 'no ill will or evil intent' in the Lady's actions, Casavir reminding him of her reputation as a paragon of virtue. Even Sand cautioned him that they shouldn't 'act precipitately' without knowing more. And against his better judgement, Danno allowed his fears to be lulled.

Eventually Neeshka was returned to them washed and perfumed, her spiky hair brushed and fluffed, her horns polished to a shine, and radiating extreme embarrassment in a figure-hugging wine-red gown.

"Don't laugh. Don't you dare laugh!"

Sand frowned in faint surprise, while the rest of them stared in astonishment. "My dear girl, do any of us look as if we are laughing? I am simply relieved that _someone_ has persuaded you out of your armour and into attire more suited to a mage. I really think your lessons will go far more successfully if you are less, shall we say, constrained. Perhaps you will suffer fewer... bizarre misfires than of late."

"Hey, that last 'misfire' was brilliant! I bet you can't wait to learn it. Nalia thinks _I'm_ a prodigy."

Danno managed to find his voice and feet at the same time, and hurried over to her. "Neeshka, you look stunning! Are you alright? What's been happening?!"

"Sure, I'm fine." Hearing concern and delight in his voice, rather than mockery, Neeshka started to relax – and preen. "Me and Nalia, we've just been talking. You know, she's really nice. Total goody-two-shoes, I mean she has nooo idea, she wouldn't last two minutes in Neverwinter docks, you know? Weeell, I guess her magic might help her some, but she's got all these weird ideas about 'the common folk' being all decent at heart. Huh, yeah right."

"Uh, Nalia...?"

"Yeah, Nalia. You know!" Neeshka affected a mockery of the Lady De'Arnise's accent, sounding as if she had a rich plum in her throat. "The Lady Nalia Delcia De'Arnise, friend of the poor, kind to servants. Sheesh, what a mouthful. Why do rich folk always think they need such long names?"

_Wouldn't last two minutes in the docks, eh?_ Danno thought of the Lady De'Arnise's casual demonstration of power, and the hard-as-nails look he'd glimpsed in her eyes. _I think she might do just fine in the docks. Or in a snake-pit like the Council._

Neeshka threw herself gracelessly into a chair, then bounced to her feet again, all nervous energy and chatter. "Gee, I'm starving! Isn't dinner ready _yet_? Um. Danno? Do you really think I look good?"

---

They ate in a small dining room, barely big enough to hold all of them. A very... _cosy_ room. A very reassuring and unthreatening room. The food could also be described as cosy; simple meats, simple vegetables, and ale for those who wanted it. And the Lady De'Arnise, or Nalia as she insisted on being called, was the epitome of reassuring cosiness.

She talked to Elanee about the balance of nature, how she had been trying to introduce farming practices that were more friendly to wild plants and creatures, and of the invaluable advice she'd received from a very close druid friend of hers ("Why yes, I did make that open-air sitting room for her, for when she visits, I do hope you enjoyed it.").

She discussed esoteric matters of magic with Sand, and praised his insights and ingenuity in devising new spells which were easier to cast. She reminisced about locks and traps with Neeshka ("Oh I was quite the little lockpick as a girl, though it was just a hobby, I couldn't hold a candle to you!"). She spoke earnestly to Casavir and Khelgar about the importance of the rule of law in society, and the need always to remember that it was merely the tool of overarching justice.

She even listened to Grobnar singing the "Gnomes on Sticks" song that he'd learnt from Deekin, and gave every impression of deriving great pleasure from it and finding deep meaning – with a sly little wink of amusement to the others.

In short, she charmed everyone utterly. Everyone, Danno noticed, except himself. To him she was polite and courteous, but ever so slightly reserved. Not stand-offish, but careful not to try and impose on him, or intrude into his thoughts. When he spoke she listened attentively, but she seemed prepared to give him space to think, and to study her, and she made no demands on him. He found this... restful. It felt as if it had been a long time since he'd been able to sit quietly on the edge of a crowd and just watch, without having to make decisions or try and juggle the conflicting moods of his opinionated companions.

He started to feel much more friendly toward Nalia. _Ah. So, I'm charmed as well, am I?_ He smiled sardonically to himself. Nalia caught his eye and, seeming to read his thoughts, gave him a conspiratorial and self-deprecating little smile that somehow took the sting out of the realisation that he was being manipulated. "_It's just a game,"_ her look seemed to say. "_Let's have fun with it."_

The meal finished and the conversation gradually wound down into yawns and silences. Servants drifted quietly in, and discretely ushered the companions to their appointed bedrooms, until just Danno and Nalia were left.

"You're very good at handling people, aren't you?"

Nalia smiled, pleased. "I've had to be. I've had to learn how, quickly." She stared into the small fireplace, looking a little wistful. "I was never any good as a girl. I always spoke my mind, and I was always so sure I was right. It was Daddy... it was my father who knew how to talk to people, and how to listen to them, but I never paid attention. Until it was too late."

She fell silent for a little, then sat up briskly and looked back at Danno. "Still, when I took over the estates I learnt a lot, and since getting a Council seat I've had to be downright sneaky!" She giggled happily, and suddenly looked very young.

"Sneaky? How?"

"Oh, for example... taking Neeshka away for a long chat in private to find out what the rest of you were like. Gracious, she _is_ outspoken, isn't she? And with such strong opinions on all of you, I certainly had to read between the lines with her. To hear her speak you'd think that Casavir sat in humourless judgement on the whole world, or that dear Khelgar was a fighting-drunk idiot. It helped that I was scrying the rest of you the whole time, of course – ever since the Cowled Wizards moved to arrest Neeshka, in fact - or I might have got quite the wrong idea!

She hardly said anything about you, though. I do think she's a bit in awe of you."

Danno carefully closed his open mouth. "You... you're being very... honest" he ventured.

Nalia wasn't smiling now, but was considering him carefully. "Yes, I think I need to be. You strike me... well you remind me of someone I knew a few years ago. Someone I travelled with for a while. Goodness, that was certainly a journey to the hells and back! I grew up a lot that year. He... he was someone who needed honesty – and who deserved it. I think you're the same sort of person.

"So tell me, what do you want to know? If I can tell you, I will."

Danno pondered this for a while. "I think... I think that all I really want to know is, what in the nine hells is going on? And... how do I know I can trust you?"

To his surprise, Nalia giggled again. He frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, those were the same questions I was going to ask you." She smiled at him brightly. "So, shall we talk?"


	11. Grief and Memory

**Grief and Memory**

Danno and Nalia talked late into the night. Nalia started off by telling Danno something about her life, so that "you can decide if you trust me."

She talked about her childhood, the only child of a wealthy Lord and widower who doted on her. She talked about the casual contempt for 'the lower classes' that she saw expressed on a daily basis by her father's peers, the anger she felt at their greedy cruelty, and the pity she felt for those less fortunate than herself. She talked about the thieving skills that one of the kitchen boys would teach her for stolen kisses and "sometimes a little more – though nothing _too_ shameful!", and about her clandestine visits to the slums of Athkatla to dispense charity to deserving cases.

"Oh dear, and such vanity to think that only 'deserving cases' should receive charity, or that I had the right to judge who was and who wasn't deserving. But I was very young and foolish, with a _very_ sheltered life."

She talked about the horrible day when her home had been besieged by an army of trolls, her flight through a hidden tunnel and her near-miss escape from their patrols. She described the desperate, futile days trying to get help, first from the other Athkatlan nobility, then from the temples, and finally from mercenaries and cut-throats in the Copper Coronet.

Danno could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Wait, are you telling me that the knights and paladins of Helm and Illmater wouldn't help?"

"No, they wouldn't." Her expression, even now, was bitter and angry. "In a city as corrupt as Athkatla, holy warriors who are truly noble tend to seek service somewhere else; or they fall foul of the Council and the Cowled Wizards. The ones who can stomach the city, and who survive, tend to be those who are most... flexible in their devotion to good. And they'd ask if it was better to do the lesser good they can achieve, or attempt the greater good and likely fail."

"Ah."

She shook her head, her bitterness and anger smoothed over by sadness and regret. "You see how easily goodness is tarnished? Oh, there are exceptions of course. One of my dearest friends is a Paladin here in Athkatla, and he would have helped... if I'd met him back then. But for the most part they want to concentrate on the smaller, safer good."

Danno thought of someone who's morality was just as tarnished as that of the Temples in Athkatla. "Hm. Just like Lord Nasher. For him, the safety of Neverwinter comes before doing the right thing. So, what happened?"

"I met the most extraordinary group of adventurers. Oh dear, such a strange, mismatched collection, I'd never imagined the like. And led by a remarkable man." Her expression was distant now, her eyes gazing back through the years. "When he walked into a room, you didn't look at anybody else. He was... magnetic. And he agreed to help. But of course, by then it was too late."

Nalia told him how they had arrived at her father's estate only to find the defence had collapsed and the trolls overrun the keep. The adventurers had, in a display of almost terrifying competence, wiped out the invaders entirely, but already almost everyone in the keep had been killed, including her father. Only her aunt and a handful of servants had survived.

Heartbroken and adrift, unable to face the prospect of being the Lady of a home now turned to a ruined charnel house, Nalia had tagged along with the adventurers. What she told him of their subsequent tale left Danno gaping, even in spite of his own experiences.

She described a desperate race to rescue their leader's sister from the Cowled Wizards' asylum, taking on whatever perilous jobs would help pay for the staggering bribes involved in simply getting there.

"Oh, in those days the asylum, Spellhold, was on an island well away from the city. After what happened there the Cowled Wizards rebuilt it just outside the city, so they could keep an eye on it – and so everyone could see and _hear_ what happens to rogue wizards."

She told Danno of a temple of light fallen into terrible darkness; of an ancient red dragon, attempting to lure them to destruction for amusement and revenge; of a Skindancer, a creature that would tear the skin from still living victims, to wear and take on their appearance; of a hidden and secret war between Shadow Thieves and vampires. She told him of finally reaching Spellhold, only to find it controlled by one of the inmates, a vile mage called Irenicus; of being betrayed by one of their companions, and their leader's very soul being stolen from him by Irenicus, as his sister's had already been stolen.

The stories went on. Even told in brief, hours went by. The leader of the adventurers was revealed as a child of the dead god of Murder, with a tendency to transform without warning into a hideous creature, as likely to attack his friends as anyone else. A final confrontation with the mage resulted in Nalia and the others being dragged into the planar hells, and battling their way out again. And _still_ the stories went on – until finally the companions faced an evil demigod, and their leader was given a choice between ascending to the higher planes as a god himself, or remaining mortal and staying with the woman he loved.

Nalia fell silent.

"Well? What happened?" _Gods, I sound like an impatient five-year-old!_

"Hm?" She looked at him vaguely, then with a start pulled herself back into the present. "Oh. Oh, he chose godhood. He chose... he chose to attempt the greater good. He would be a god of death, of course. He was, after all, his father's son."

She smiled in wry amusement. "After seeing him in battle I don't think anyone could deny that! But death is necessary. For one thing, without death there'd be no birth, and that would never do. And the death of evil is certainly a good thing - usually. He thought... he _hoped_ he could be a force for good. A god of death, but of _heroic _death. Meaningful death. As far as such a thing is possible, of good death.

"He hasn't failed – yet. He still survives, still fights his battles against evil, and forges alliances of good, he just does it on the outer planes. He even visits, sometimes, though he never visits his beloved. I think... I think she couldn't bear it."

Nalia stared into space for a while, then sighed and looked back at Danno, smiling faintly. "It was so embarrassing when she turned up unexpectedly for a visit the last time he happened to be here. She arrived by a gateway, and caught him quite off guard. The poor dear, he disappeared so suddenly that he spilt soup all over my best carpet. Oh, the stories I had to invent to explain _that_ away.

"I don't... I don't know if he'll succeed in his hopes." She glanced down, picked aimlessly at a spot on the tablecloth. "He probably won't. But that was always his way, to strive for the greater good in spite of the dangers, instead of settling for the lesser but more certain good.

"I think that's why I fought for a seat on the Council. To honour him. I could have just ruled my lands well, and improved life for the people here, but I wanted to do more, to improve life for all Athkatla. Maybe even for all Amn." She suddenly smiled brightly, impish and self satisfied. "And of course, it's always fun causing trouble for the Cowled Wizards and the other bastards on the Council!"

She tilted her head slightly, a questioning, appraising look on her face. "So, Danno Benner. Do you trust me now?"

"Ha! If half of what you've told me is true, I think I trust you more than myself."

"I am so glad. Now then, tell me all about yourself. Tell me," and the hint of steel was back in her eyes, "can I trust _you_?"

So, hesitantly, Danno told her his story. He felt almost embarrassed doing so. All the time he was recounting the events that had swept him along he was thinking, _I had no choice. I was just reacting to events, hunted, pushed from one crisis to another. Even against the King of Shadows... 'Saving the World' sounds so grand, but I knew that if I didn't try then I'd die anyway. _She_ could have stopped at any time. Could have reclaimed her lands, or just moved away and lived a quiet, safe life. But she _chose _to risk herself, to do the right thing. She's a braver, better person than me..._

He stumbled on through his account, brief and terse, thinking how banal it all sounded, how unheroic it was. He knew, on some level, that that wasn't true. He and his companions had done what no-one else except Ammon had even attempted. But somehow he couldn't make himself believe it, not really. _No-one else had all the shards. And... and I wouldn't let them have them all. Couldn't, not if it meant dying to give them the last one. So I had to fight the King of Shadows. Any way I looked at it, I had to fight him or die. Is that courage?_

Danno never reached the end of his story. He was telling her of the Ritual of Purification, of hunting through the ruins of Arvahn. When his tale reached the desolation of West Harbor, he felt somehow that it was important for her to understand the heroism of those who had died. He talked about Georg, always so determined that West Harbor should never be destroyed again, always training his militia, dying with his sword in hand while trying to defend the village against a horror he had no means of fighting. He talked about Wyn Mossfeld, the smug, arrogant bully who was no coward, rushing to answer Georg's call dressed only in his nightshirt.

And he told her... he tried to tell her about Retta's dogs, who even in the face of the King of Shadows' Reaver, even facing the nightmare of shades and undead, didn't run, but fell trying to defend Retta. Danno tried to tell Nalia all this, but his throat seemed to close up and then...

And then he was sobbing uncontrollably. Not the stifled sobs of manhood, not the wails of childhood, but great yawning, groaning sobs of loss and loneliness. He was horrified, embarrassed, he wanted to stop, tried to strangle the sobs, but it was impossible. Leaning forwards, his arms wrapped around himself, he was helplessly aware of where he was and what, to his eternal shame, he was doing. He felt Nalia crouching beside his chair and putting her arms round him, patting him on the back, stroking his hair. He heard her making soft, comforting noises. He also heard the nervous, helpless distress in her voice. He watched the tears and snot dribbling down onto the carpet, a spattering of dark and glistening spots and trails on the rich gold and blue.

_Oh gods, this is awful. Why can't I stop crying? I don't want this to be happening. Hey, Nalia's friend? God of Death? I'd like to die now. Please? I just want... I want... Oh gods, I want them back! I want them alive again! Please, Retta, Georg, everybody, please don't be dead any more. I want to go home. I just want to go home!_

A fresh paroxysm of sobs wracked him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to shut out the room, to shut out everything.

Eventually the horrible sobbing eased, turned into pathetic gulping and hiccuping. Exhausted, dizzy and slightly nauseous, his head aching wearily, he started trying vaguely to wipe his eyes with his hands. _Damn, I need a towel, I can't use my sleeves. _A cloth was pushed into his hands (a_h, a napkin, good thinking_), and when that was sodden, another. Slowly his breathing returned to normal, and he stopped shivering. Nalia was still holding him, still making wordless cooing noises.

Tired, tired beyond thinking, he rested his head against her. Then vaguely wondered what she must think of him. He didn't really care, not any more. It was just nice to be held, and comforted. It felt strangely, pleasantly familiar. _I wonder why? I don't remember my mother holding me, don't remember her at all, and Daeghun, he could barely bring himself to touch me, let alone comfort me. Amie? Gina? No, why would they? They never saw me upset, or lonely, not the quiet boy who always watched from the edges. So why...?_ He abandoned the tantalising, frustrating hint of recollection, and tried to sit up straight. Nalia let go of him.

"Gods, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually..."

"Oh stop it! Don't you dare apologise! Oh, you poor man." Nalia's voice sounded choked. Surprised, Danno looked at her and realised that her face was streaked with tears. Giving him a wobbly, damp smile, she started wiping her face with her sleeves.

_Oh. So sleeves are acceptable in polite society. Oh well, live and learn._

Nalia finished tidying herself, and stood up. "I think we've talked enough for tonight." She proffered him her arm, a lady expecting a gentleman's escort. "Might you escort me to my chambers?"

A wave of memory crashed over him.

---

_Danno stood on the bridge in West Harbor feeling desolate and miserable. Greengrass, gods he hated it. Always watching other people having fun, while he tried to fit in and ended up making polite conversation with one of the old folk who couldn't hold their drink any more, or with Tarmas or Brother Merring, neither of whom celebrated Greengrass. But Danno wanted to celebrate. He wanted to be with the other youngsters, be part of their world, their friendships and rivalries, their passions and heartaches. He just didn't seem to have the knack – especially with the girls._

_Oh, they liked him well enough. He was good at being _liked_, but that was as far as it went. They didn't admire him. They certainly didn't desire him. Bevil, with his powerful build, his good looks and air of steady confidence, had to beat the girls off with a stick. Even his twelve year old cousin Gina had started flirting with him. What made it worse was that he did beat them off. Bevil wanted to wait until he was a grown man, fall in love, get married and raise a family. Danno would be quite happy to settle for a meaningless roll in the hay. Just once, at least._

_This year, he'd told himself, this year it would be different. He'd fallen in love with Elise, seventeen years old (not that much older than him, not really) and the most beautiful creature in all Faerun. He'd met up with her whenever he could, talking to her, listening to her problems, and he was sure she liked him. She often smiled when she saw him coming._

_The celebration had seemed to start so well. Elise actually talked to him. They'd sat in a corner together, chatting and joking, eating and drinking. Then Danno had gone to get some more food, and when he'd returned Elise had wandered off. He'd looked for her for a while, but it was clear she hadn't just stepped out of sight for a minute. She'd gone._

_Humiliated and depressed, Danno left as well, just as the celebrations were reaching the sordid and chaotic stage. Others were also leaving – in pairs. He wandered from the great tent set up in the Harvest Field, and headed for home. He paused on the bridge, leaning on the rail and staring morosely at the running water. Then, just audible over the river, the worst sound possible; the sound of Elise's voice, whispering and giggling._

_He knew he should leave. Instead he waited, hating himself, until he heard the first soft moan... and still he stood there, rigid and frozen to the spot with rage and self-disgust. He started at the sound of footsteps on the bridge, and turned hurriedly. Retta Starling was there, with a curious and faintly concerned expression._

"_Why, what are you doing out here dear? All on your own?"_

_Danno wondered the same about her, but didn't say anything. He just shuffled his feet and mumbled something incoherent._

"_Well I don't blame you dear. It really is getting rather rowdy back there. Poor Brother Merring's going to have his work cut out for him this year. Much nicer to be out here in the cool. Still, a young fellow like you really shouldn't be all on his own. Not on Greengrass! I do hope... oh dear. I haven't disturbed... I mean, you aren't waiting for someone?"_

_There really was nothing Danno could say. He just turned away abruptly and stared into the darkness._

"_D-Danno? Was it something I said, dear?" Then, at the muffled sound of a cry of delight, "Oh. Oh dear. I see."_

_He heard her footsteps on the bridge again, thought she was leaving, but then she was standing beside him and putting her arm comfortingly around his shoulders. Embarrassed and feeling horribly awkward, he shrugged his shoulder violently, trying to shake her arm off. In truth, though, not trying too hard. A small part of him craved the warm, comforting pressure of her motherly touch._

"_I know it seems hard and lonely now, but you are still very young, and not all boys are dallying at your age. In Neverwinter city such goings on would be highly scandalous! Why, when..." She stopped, as if having second thoughts about what she was going to say. Another cry of pleasure, louder and more urgent, from across the water. Danno stiffened. Retta stepped in front of him, and held out her arm to him in a curious gesture._

"_Danno, do you think you might walk me home?"_

_---_

Danno stared up at Nalia from where he sat. Then, without speaking, he rose and took her arm.

_Danno and Retta walked slowly through the village back to her house, while she kept up a gentle flow of words, nothing that needed a response from him, but a pleasant and soothing murmur. Their feet rustled faintly in the dried grass of summer._

Danno and Nalia walked arm in arm through the halls of her keep. They didn't speak, and the rugs on the floor muffled the sound of their footsteps. He was acutely aware of the warmth of her, and the way her hip brushed against his as they walked.

---

_They reached Retta's house. The sounds of rowdy celebration (and fighting) were somewhat muffled but still audible. Also, from what he could hear, Danno guessed that another couple had taken refuge from prying eyes in Retta's barn. Retta opened her parlour door, then hesitated._

"_Would you like to come in? For a little while?"_

"_Um. I ought to be getting home. Father..."_

"_Now, Danno. I know Daeghun is off trapping, he always is at Greengrass. It would be too bad of me to send you off to that empty house. And... and Bevil won't be back until morning, he does so love a feast. The children are staying over with Brother Merring tonight, so... I really would like the company. Danno?"_

_The look she gave him was anxious, almost pleading. Danno looked back at her for a few moments, uncertain. He might be young, solitary and inexperienced, but he wasn't stupid. From the look she gave him, he didn't think she wanted tea and conversation, not tonight. Nor did he._

_It felt wrong, though. She was old enough to be his mother. She was his best friend's mother. She was... she was lovely. Not with the lush, ripe beauty so prized in West Harbor, but with a slender, slightly faded grace. He could hardly believe she had six children. He trembled. He wanted... he'd never thought his first... it was wrong._

_She reached out and lightly touched his cheek, looking so vulnerable..._

"_Alright."_

_She smiled with relief and pleasure, took his hand and led him in._

_---_

They reached Nalia's chambers. They'd encountered a guard or two on the way, making their rounds, but there was no guard in evidence here. Danno wondered vaguely if there was a hidden guard, or if she relied on magical traps and alarms to protect her sleep. She opened the door and stepped inside, then turned and stood holding the door aside for him to enter – if he wished.

An unspoken invitation, easy to ignore. All he had to do was to wish her a polite goodnight. No explicit invitation to turn down, no request to reject. Just gentle tact and understanding.

Danno stepped inside.


	12. Guilt

**Guilt**

_Oh gods! What a mess. What a stupid, stupid mess! What have I done?_

Of course, Danno knew full well what he had done. He'd betrayed the woman who'd stuck by him through thick and thin. The woman who'd been true even through torture and magical compulsion. The woman who'd declared "I'm not going to turn on the one person who showed me kindness - and if it costs my life, so be it!" Guilt writhed like a worm inside him. But the worst part was, if he had it all to do over, he thought he'd do the same.

He lay holding the sleeping Nalia in his arms, staring at the ceiling. A few candles lit the room with a soft golden light. _I wish she had more lights in here. That was the problem with the Coronet, never enough candles. I liked the Mithrest Inn, they always gave us lots of candles..._ He knew he was distracting himself. He didn't want to think about Neeshka, about what a bastard he was.

_Hells. Hells, hells, hells! Why did I do it? Why?_

Danno looked at Nalia. Why had he slept with her? Because she was beautiful? Because she was available? Because she... _oh gods, I don't even want to think it..._ because she was the mother he'd never had? Someone to cuddle him and comfort him, to stroke his hair and make it all better? He cringed at the thought, then felt a flash of petulant anger. So what if she was? Was that really so terrible? How many men in West Harbor had, in a sense, married their mothers? Married nice, ordinary girls who would cook their dinners, clean their house, have their children and be happy doing so?

Why... oh damn, why had she slept with him? Pity? Was that all he was to her, a poor wretch that she felt sorry for? No, surely not. This was the Lady Nalia De'Arnise. If she spread her legs for every man she pitied, she'd never get up off her back for long enough to boil an egg! No, it wasn't pity. Not... not just pity. She was attracted to him. Wasn't she?

A nasty thought wormed its way to the surface. Had he slept with Nalia because she reminded him of Retta?

_Of course you did, fool. Weren't you remembering Retta the whole time you were walking to Nalia's chambers? Of course you were. Weren't you thinking of Retta the whole time you were... No! No I... I wasn't. I wasn't! Was I?_

Horrified, Danno stared at Nalia, trying to see Retta in her. She looked nothing like Retta, that was certain. With her round face and strong, slightly plump frame she looked more like a peasant girl, more like a Harborwoman, than the slender and graceful Retta ever had. Odd that, Retta had looked more aristocratic than the aristocrat did.

Was Nalia like Retta in other ways? She was... motherly (_and we're back to that, aren't we?_) in a way. Yet Nalia hadn't run off to a village to look after a farm, have a herd of children and... do nothing much else, really. Far from it. Nalia had spent over a year in hard travel and deadly combat; she had become an archmage of frightening power; she had single-handedly seized back her lands from a powerful Lord; and she was trying to take on the highest powers in an entire country on their own terms, outfox and outmanoeuvre them at their own game.

No, Nalia was nothing like Retta. _She looks so young! Lying there, curled up like that, sucking her thumb. She is young, really, not even thirty._ Danno wondered at the contradiction. She looked so confident, adult and (sometimes) hard when she was awake. Asleep, she looked like the eighteen year old girl who'd sneaked out at night to give coins to the beggars. Retta had been the other way around, younger than her years awake, but asleep...

---

_They had only lain together one other time. A few days after that first night, Danno had been so incompetent in his lessons that Tarmas had told him to "get out, and stay out until you have finished wool-gathering." Pleased with his success, Danno had wandered over to Retta's. He knew Bevil would be at his sword lessons with Georg, and the older children would either be learning their letters with Brother Merring or off scouring the swamps for herbs and small food animals. Only little Danan would be there, and he could barely walk._

_Danno had found Retta hoeing her vegetable plot. She'd looked both pleased and embarrassed to see him. He'd helped her with her chores, and then they'd gone in to talk. They'd both agreed (with some relief) that it would be best if Greengrass night remained just one night; a special night. Danno had got up to leave, and they had kissed each other goodbye, a quick and polite little kiss. Then, a longer one. Then they had stumbled urgently into her bedroom._

_It had been different this time. Even as he was making love to her, Danno had felt awkward and ashamed. Just minutes ago he had wanted to so much. Now he didn't even know why. And afterwards, as she dozed, he had looked at her in the light of day, at her tired and careworn face, and had thought "She's old." He had dressed quietly, sat in the kitchen watching baby Danan until he heard her stirring, then slunk off._

_Neither of them mentioned it again, except once. Six months later, Danno had screwed up his courage, and asked her "Is it mine?" He had been terrified she'd be furious with him; in West Harbor there were some things one simply did not ask. But she had just smiled, rested her hand on her belly, and said "It's mine. My gift from Chauntea." That was an end of it. A Gift from Chauntea._

_There were usually a few such gifts nine months after Greengrass. Gifts from the Earthmother to unmarried women; to women whose husbands had been banished in disgrace to sleep on the tap-room floor for the last year; to girls scandalously young even by West Harbor's relaxed standards; in retrospect, to women whose husbands could in no way be seen in the child. A Gift from Chauntea was the mother's only. Even if, in truth, everybody knew who the father was, neither the mother nor the child would ever have any claim on him – and he would have no claim on either of them. Cuckolded husbands ground their teeth in frustration, and grimaced politely at whoever they chose to suspect. In any village that celebrated Greengrass properly, there was the same tradition._

_Even so, when West Harbor was attacked by the Githyanki, and Retta's house invaded, he had abandoned the defence of the village to save Retta and the twins without a second thought._

---

Reluctantly, Danno dragged his thoughts back to the present. He was glad he'd never found the twins' bodies, or encountered them as shades; he thought that might have destroyed him. He was sure they were dead, but at least a little part of him could dream that Retta had sent them away with Tarmas, or one of the few who had left before the end.

It was still dark outside, but there was a faint hint of grey in the sky and a few sleepy chirps from the nearby woodlands. Danno wanted to just slip away, but he knew Nalia deserved better than that. He touched her face, said her name. Then, when she just snorted at him, poked her gently in the ribs. She opened her eyes sleepily, closed them again. Then opened them with a start, pulling away from him... then she stopped, relaxed, laughed a little shakily.

"Oh. Oh dear, you must think me... I'm sorry. It's just... well, it's been a long time. Since I woke up with someone that is. You startled me."

"No, it's alright, I should be apologising. Sorry I didn't mean..."

"Don't be silly." She sighed contentedly, and then to Danno's consternation she snuggled up to him, sending the blood rushing from his head to his groin. "It's nice. I'm just not used to it. I could get used to it." She smiled happily at him, then glanced at the window. "It'll be dawn soon. Do you need to go back to your friends? If they wake up and you're not in your room," she yawned hugely, "they might get worried."

_And just like that I'm off the hook. No need to explain to her, no need to explain to the others. I made a mistake, but I don't have to admit to it, I just don't do it again._ He looked into her eyes.

"It's still early. I don't have to leave just yet."

"Oh good." She smiled coquettishly, and her fingers moved to wander across his skin. "I _am_ glad."

---

The guard was new at his job, and still nervous of getting things wrong. His Sergeant's careful instructions seemed less and less clear or helpful each day.

"Now remember," the Sergeant had said, "it isn't your job to spot trouble, find intruders or secure the castle. The castle, well, the Lady's spells on the castle, will do that better than you can. It is especially _**not**_ your job to keep an eye on the Lady's guests, it is your job to see they are happy.

"If you're walking your rounds at midnight, and you meet a bald giant talking to a hamster, you do not try to escort him back to his room and lock him in. You ask him if his hamster wants some cheese – or if he does. If you encounter a gnome trying to brew explosives from turnip juice, you do not douse his experiments in water, you ask if you can hold his retort for him. If one of her guests takes it into their head to climb onto the roofs stark naked and sing the Luskan national anthem, you offer to wave their flag for them.

"If, however, you hear the alarms, then you RUN! Get there fast! You've got your armour, you've got your sword, you've got your potions. Use them. Don't, I repeat don't, let any of the Lady's guests (or gods forbid the Lady herself) be dismembered or mutilated. Because that makes this," tapping the Rod of Resurrection on the guard's belt, "useless. They have to be in one piece for it to work right.

"Now don't use it frivolously, it's worth more than you'll ever make in your whole life. But it's there to be used if necessary. In an emergency just keep calm, be decisive, and you'll be fine. Any questions? No? Good."

All very well, but what was he supposed to do if he saw one of the vault doors open, but when he blinked it wasn't open at all? And when he looked closer, all the locks were locked, all the traps were set, but... but it really did look like there were some things missing. Should he tell someone?

Or, for example, how should he react if he encountered a young man, a wizard by his robes, standing in a corridor near the Lady's chambers, banging his head against a bare stone wall in time to a litany of "Stupid! Stupid! Shit! Scum! Bastard! Moron! Idiot!"

"Ahem. Ah. Er... would you... would you like a cushion Sir? Er... for your forehead... Sir?"

---

Danno trudged miserably to his room in the guest wing as dawn broke. _Why did I stay? I could have just left, I should have just left, but no, I had to stay and... and... oh gods! Idiot! Damn, my head hurts, what must that guard think of me? What will Nalia think if I avoid her tomorrow... no, tonight? Will she be angry? Will she stop helping us? What will Neeshka do if I avoid her? What will I say about last night? Gods, why do I never, ever have any answers!?_

At least the helpful guard had told him which room was his. Nalia obviously didn't know about him and Neeshka, because she had another room. Danno hesitated outside it, wondering if he should try and talk to her now, or wait until breakfast. He could pretend he'd been talking to Nalia until late and had wanted to let Neeshka sleep – except he had never been good at bluffing or lying.

_Hang on a moment. Is she laughing in there? No, not laughing. Chortling. Gloating! Damn! That is a bad sound, very bad._

He opened the door quietly, and went in. Neeshka was sitting on her bed, dressed all in soft dark cloth. She was admiring a flail that she was holding, fingering through the heads and holding them up to the light. Even from the doorway Danno could see that each head had a different enchantment. The thing looked deadly, and fabulously expensive. From Nalia's earlier stories, he knew what it was.

Neeshka looked up at him, grinning impishly. "Danno! Gee, shut the door! Look at this, just look at it. Isn't it great? I can't decide whether to keep it or sell it. I mean, don't you just want to swing it at something? Not that I'd be any good with it, but it would be so much fun!" She sighed regretfully. "I guess it'd be better to sell it. How much do you think it's worth? Hells, there probably isn't a fence in all Athkatla who could afford it! Still, I reckon if we break it up, we can sell the bits and still make a fortune. What do you reckon Danno? Um... Danno?"

Fury at her indifferent greed, frustration at her stupidity, guilt at his own weak and selfish faithlessness, all fused together into a seething mass that rushed up his throat in a bellow of rage – which he throttled and crushed. Still, when he did speak his words came hissing out between clenched teeth.

"Put. It. Back!"

For a moment she looked alarmed, cowed. She'd looked like that when he'd threatened Ammon with hanging. Then alarm was swept away by angry indignation.

"What? _What_?! Hells no! I worked really hard for this! I mean, she's got locks and traps and alarms like I've never seen before, and I got through all of them, right under her guards' noses! If she can't keep her stuff she doesn't deserve to have it, and anyway she's got tons of other crap left! No way am I putting it back! Why should I?"

Danno slumped wearily into a chair. _Oh gods, what have I done to deserve this?_

_You mean apart from tumbling the first wench to pat you on the head and tell you what a poor thing you were, instead of paying attention to Neeshka? Well, really I can't imagine._

_Get out of my head, Sand!_

_Sand? Oh I'm sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm your good sense, not that you ever listen to me either. Really, I don't know why I bother._

He groaned, buried his face in his hands for a moment, looked up again. "Neeshka, you can't... we can't steal from people who are trying to save our lives! Lady De'Arnise is going up against the Cowled Wizards and the rest of the Council over this. She's taking a terrible risk for us. Why should she help us if we're just going to rob her?"

"But nobody saw me!" She had drawn her legs up, hugging them, and her tail was writhing and flicking. "She won't know it was us, it could've been any of her dopey guards, I'll bet they've got the keys to the vaults! Hells, I could plant something on one of them and we'd be in the clear, no problem."

"Neeshka! You don't... you don't turn on the people who are trying to help you, it's just wrong! Do you remember Fort Locke? I helped you, back then. Would you have back-stabbed me for my gear during that fight?" _Of course, I back-stabbed you last night, you just don't know it yet. Why am I preaching to her like this? I'm no better than her. I'm Worse. Far worse._ "And that flail, Lady De'Arnise mentioned it to me last night. Neeshka, her father died trying to reassemble that flail. Trying to save her, this keep, the people in it. It's important to..."

It was the wrong thing to say. She'd been looking guilty and defensive – now her expression hardened to bitterness and anger.

"Oh yeah? What, it's all she's got to remember her daddy by? Sure, this and the keep and her lands and her money! Well the only thing my parents left me was 'goat girl' and 'demon spawn' and being run out of every place I ever called home, and G-Garius..." Her voice choked, she almost sobbed, then anger won the upper hand... "and nearly getting burnt alive! If she wants _that_ she's welcome to it! Here!"

Neeshka flung the flail into his lap. Danno caught it awkwardly, burning his hand on one of the heads.

"If it's so important to you, _you_ put it back!" She rummaged under the bed, hauled out a satchel and threw it at his chest. "And this!" Then she turned her back on him.

Danno felt, if possible, even more guilty than before. He stood up, trying to juggle flail and satchel. Opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He turned to the doorway, but he couldn't bear to leave the room with this between them.

"Neeshka, please try to..."

"Get out!"

Danno retreated.

He wandered the corridors of the keep for a while, wondering what to do. He briefly thought of going back to Nalia's chambers and making a clean breast of it, but he dismissed that idea. He knew what he'd end up doing (what part of him hoped he'd end up doing) if he did. There were a few servants around now, cleaning grates, re-laying fires and doing other chores. They all politely ignored him. In the great entrance hall he encountered the young officer from the day before talking urgently to (it seemed) Nalia's castellan.

"Um. Excuse me, Sir..."

At Danno's hesitant approach, the officer looked up and smiled courteously. "Not Sir, just Captain. Captain Randolph. May I help..." A sharp intake of breath. "May I ask what you are doing with that?"

"I'd rather you didn't. But perhaps you could put it and these other things back in the Lady De'Arnise's vaults?"

Randolph hesitated. "Of course. I... I will have to inform her Ladyship of this."

"Please don't. She didn't mean... oh hells!" Danno could have kicked himself. 'She' could only mean Neeshka or Elanee, and no-one would suspect Elanee over Neeshka. "Look, she was nearly burnt at the stake yesterday! She just wanted to prove to herself that she's not just a victim. That she can do _something_ really well. And she's an idiot. If I haven't returned everything, alright, but if it's all there, can't you just put it back?"

The castellan had quickly glanced through the satchel, and taking Randolph's arm drew him to one side. After a brief conversation the castellan hurried off with flail and satchel. Randolph turned back to Danno.

"Very well. I won't mention this to Lady De'Arnise. Unless..." His expression hardened. "Is this likely to happen again?"

Danno desperately wanted to say that it wouldn't. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then shook his head helplessly. "I... gods, I don't know! Maybe. Neeshka... well, she's incorrigible. And we had a rather heated discussion about this. I'm sorry. I wouldn't put it past her to try again just to spite me."

Randolph drummed his fingers thoughtfully against his sword hilt, weighing up his options. He came to a decision. "I'm afraid that I'll have to suggest to the Lady that she improves the security on her vault. Even without saying why, she will guess." He tried to smile encouragingly. "If it's any consolation, I think she will be impressed rather than angry. Even Jan Jansen has never managed to get into the vaults, though not for lack of trying, and he's one of the best thieves I've heard of. I've already seen your friend's remarkable magical skills. Her thieving skills must be quite extraordinary."

Hardly daring to believe his and Neeshka's luck, Danno started to relax. He laughed shakily. "I didn't even know she was this good myself. Thank you. For being so understanding, I mean."

"It's quite alright. Breakfast won't be served for another few hours, but I'm sure some food can be organised if you wish."

"No, no that's alright. I should try and get some... some more sleep."

Danno headed back to the guest rooms. He paused outside Neeshka's room, his hand on the catch. Then he heard her swear viciously, and there was a loud and expensive sounding crash. A pause, then very quietly, "oh hells." Danno retreated to his own room, where he lay and stared at the ceiling until a servant came to tell him breakfast was served.


	13. Tales and Confessions

**Tales and Confessions**

Breakfast at the De'Arnise estate was, on that morning, a rather surreal affair – for those that knew Neeshka.

The servants who roused the companions had asked if they wanted 'suitable clothing laid out', and had hinted that they could assist in dressing. Danno had been startled and, despite his black mood, sourly amused, wondering what Khelgar's reaction would be. When he reached the reception hall where breakfast was being served, Khelgar was definitely looking out of sorts.

"Khelgar? Is there a problem?" He tried to sound innocent, but couldn't help smirking – just a little.

Khelgar scowled at him ferociously. "Humph! The... the gall! I'm a dwarf, not a child!"

Danno's smile broadened – and then faded as Nalia swept into the room.

She looked so happy, and her smile widened as she caught sight of him. _Damn. Damn! I didn't... I don't want to hurt her. What do I say?_

Catching his expression, she hesitated. She looked at him, faintly puzzled, enquiring. Danno tried to smile back, glanced worriedly at the others, and looked back at her to meet, just for a moment, an expression of disappointment. Then she turned away, and began politely trying to sooth Khelgar's jangled nerves.

Danno breathed a sigh of guilty relief, and turned to the breakfast table. _It's better like this. Better she think I'm embarrassed, having second thoughts. Easier for everyone... Isn't it?_ He stared at the food laid out, and found he really didn't have an appetite. He forced himself to try and eat at least a little, to try and settle the acid churning in his stomach.

He was shocked to the core, a few minutes later, when Neeshka joined them. She had obviously taken full advantage of the maidservant's assistance in dressing, because Danno didn't believe for a moment that she would have had such skill in sartorial warfare.

The maidservant came in first, bringing in a tray of food, and desperately trying to smother her giggles. Nalia raised her eyebrows, but was far too polite to call her to task before guests. When Neeshka sauntered in a moment later, Nalia's eyebrows almost climbed off her forehead – and Danno was paralysed and struck dumb.

_Torio, you're an amateur. A crude and obvious amateur. _He heard a crash behind him as Khelgar dropped a metal tray. Sand murmured a despairing "Mystra, what _is_ she wearing?", while Elanee sniffed loudly, and muttered "Well!"

The evening before Neeshka had looked embarrassed and awkward in a formal gown. Now she looked lazily triumphant in an informal day-gown. An extremely informal day-gown – informal almost to the point of non-existence. _Not that it's revealing... exactly,_ Danno thought in an urgent and organic confusion. In fact its diaphanous folds left almost everything to the imagination, while somehow making it quite clear that there was a great deal to be imagined. A great deal indeed. With every movement the fabric would momentarily outline a curve here, or hang loosely over an enticing hollow there...

_I'm being punished. That look she's giving me, that 'no touching' look. Gods, she's evil! Evil! I'll strangle that maidservant, Neeshka would never have thought of this on her own. We must stop giving her ideas. Magic, weird sex, clothes; bad ideas, all very bad ideas. Oh gods, Casavir! He's wearing his armour! Poor Casavir. Poor Elanee..._

Nalia rallied magnificently.

"Why, Neeshka dear, you look wonderful. Dear Marissa has always had such a wonderful eye for choosing just the right clothes. You don't feel a little chilly, perhaps? I know this old place never really warms up, even in Summer..."

"Ohhh no. I'm fine," with a smirking, sidelong glance at Danno. "I reckon a touch of good old grandpa's blood isn't _always_ a bad thing. I mean, I love a nice hot fire, sure. Who doesn't? But I've got plenty of heat to spare, if you know what I mean."

_Alright, she's being way too obvious and suggestive now, and she doesn't have the voice for it. Concentrate on that, not how she looks... oh, who am I kidding. I can't bloody take my eyes off her, and she knows it._

Nalia glanced at her other guests with a slightly panicky amusement. "Oh. Oh good. I am glad. But perhaps that gown is just a little distracting for the gentlemen?"

"Gee, you think so?" Neeshka made a show of looking round appraisingly. _Like a cat, sizing up a bunch of mice... looking for the tastiest._

"Well Khelgar's a dwarf, if a girl doesn't have a stomach like a beer-keg he's not interested." Khelgar stared intently at a cold ham and tried to calm his breathing. "Danno and Sand are wizards, they're real good at concentrating, and Casavir's a paladin so I'm sure it doesn't bother _him_. How about you, Grobnar? Uh... Grobnar?"

Grobnar suddenly seemed to return from whatever far-away place his mind had been. "Oh... sorry. Just a little distracted. I was just looking at that wonderful material, and I thought 'that is _exactly_ right for catching moths at night'." He sighed a little sadly. "I'm sure Mirri and Jilla could have caught lots more insects if they'd had some."

"Err... yeah. Right. Um..." Neeshka briefly joined everyone else in being lost for words, but quickly recovered. "So, what's happening?"

---

While they ate, Danno (heroically tearing his eyes away from Neeshka) assured the others of Nalia's intentions, and that having heard some more about her he was confident that she was trustworthy. Sand still had some reservations, but on hearing a brief version of the tale she'd told Danno the night before he decided to accept her at face value – for the time being.

Danno then continued his story of their campaign against the King of Shadows. The only hiccup in the telling came near the end, when he recounted how they used the Tome of Iltkazar to reach the Illefarn ruins in the Vale of Merdelain. He was just about to tell Nalia about Neeshka's disappearance when Neeshka interrupted.

"Gee, you're not going to talk your way through every room in that dungeon are you? This is getting boring. Hells, what's to say? We fought a bunch of monsters. Then we wiped the floor with Garius." As she said this last, her chirpy bantering tone dropped away and she spoke with sudden venom and a grim satisfaction. Then she relaxed and started eating candied grapes.

Elanee cast Danno an anxious and uncertain look, while Sand gazed absently out of a window with an innocent and unconcerned expression on his face. Danno couldn't see the others' faces without turning to look, but he could imagine them; Grobnar puzzled, Khelgar glowering, and Casavir studiedly blank.

"Well, it was a little more complicated than that," Danno suggested. "There was Qara, and Bishop..." He looked at Neeshka's face as he spoke. Bright, attentive, cheerful. But her knuckles, he realised, were white as she gripped a fork. So he continued his story without mentioning her abduction, torture and defiance of Garius' binding spell. He ended his telling at the gates of Athkatla, with Ammon's veiled threat as he stepped through a Cowled Wizard's gateway.

As he spoke, Danno watched Nalia carefully. Throughout the tale she sat leaning forward, drinking in every word, expressions moving across her face. Almost childlike, she looked as if she was living the story as it was told. _I wonder if she misses the days of her own adventures. _When Danno finished the telling, she sat back.

"Gracious, what a marvellous tale! I had no idea... Of course, we knew of Lord Nasher's call to Waterdeep and the Lord's Alliance for aid against an army of the undead, but we had no idea that this King of Shadows posed such a terrible threat. I really do believe that we owe you our lives; all of you." She glanced around at them, tapped a finger thoughtfully on the tabletop.

"Well now, we seem to be coming up to the present, and to your own troubles with the Cowled Wizards and their allies on the Council. Perhaps I should tell you what I know, and you can help me by filling in the gaps? Let me see, where to begin.

"I suppose you know by now that the Cowled Wizards exist, supposedly, to provide protection to the people of Amn against rouge practitioners of arcane magic. They're supposed to watch, and enforce decent and law-abiding behaviour. They are also supposed to find those few poor souls who have become deranged and deadly, to make sure they can do no harm and to seek a cure for their disturbance."

Sand cleared his throat delicately. "Ah, such noble ideals. Most regrettable that this _wonderful_ organisation should share its name with, it would appear, a group of tyrants' enforcers."

Nalia's lips twisted into a moue of distaste. "Oh, indeed. But they've become greedy over time. Greedy for power and influence, greedy for the wealth and privilege those bring. In order to keep their power, and expand it, they can't simply protect the people; they must have a threat to protect the people from! If a threat doesn't present itself, then a threat must be found. So they keep their power by terrorising the folk of Athkatla and all Amn.

"I told you about Jon Irenicus, who was at war with the Shadow Thieves. The Cowled Wizards thought, at first, that he was a gift from the gods. He was weakening the Shadow Thieves who were rivals for power, and his half secret clashes with them alarmed the folk of the city. Of course, when he near destroyed Waukeen's Promenade in open battle, well that was just too much. Protecting folk from imaginary threats is one thing – failing to protect them from real ones is another.

"So they took Irenicus and poor Imoen off to Spellhold, little realising that Irenicus was letting them, for his own reasons..." Her voice tailed off, and for a moment she seemed to be looking at something long ago, and far away – something horrible. Then she seemed to come back to herself, and continued in a tone of ironic bitterness.

"It was a terrible shock to them when he seized control of Spellhold and used it to conduct his vile experiments, but nobody in the city ever got to hear about that, so in the long term it didn't hurt them. They rebuilt Spellhold in sight of Athkatla, and flourished on the back of everyone's fear."

There was a bang as Khelgar slapped his hand onto the table. He rose from his seat, trembling with outrage. "And what are _you_ doin' about it, eh? Here I was thinking the Council was supposed to be in charge here. Huh. Looks to me like it's those cowled monsters who are running things, arresting innocent folk and dragging them off to be burnt or... or _experimented_ on!"

"Khelgar, you mis-direct your anger." Casavir stared levelly at Khelgar, a note of warning in his voice. "The Lady De'Arnise has sought to aid us against the Cowled Wizards and the Council - the rest of the Council – both."

"Thank you Casavir, you are a true gentleman." Nalia shook her head ruefully. "But I'm afraid Khelgar is right. Many councillors have prospered over many years from their alliances with the Cowled Wizards, and have happily conspired with their actions. At the moment there's only one other councillor who I can rely on to help me in my attempts to frustrate them, and he is far from the wealthiest or most powerful."

"Even so, recently the Cowled Wizards haven't been doing so well." She smiled, but it was a thin, unhappy smile. "There simply haven't been enough arcane threats to keep the population suitably cowed. So when a powerful necromancer is torn apart by his own demon, which then escapes to terrorise the city... well, I'm quite sure it seemed too good to be true."

She fell silent. She was looking at Danno, with a disconcertingly thoughtful and remote expression. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. When she continued, he couldn't help feeling that she had changed her mind about what to say.

"I'm not certain, but I fear that some of the killings by 'Jerro's Demon' were the work of the Cowled Wizards themselves. Of course, they can't just have a murderous demon running round indefinitely, that would never do. They have to catch one, and do so publicly.

"And that," she turned to Neeshka, "is where you come in. It looks as if they've chosen you to be the demon that they catch, in order to keep the city safe."

Again she hesitated. Only now, when she continued, Danno had the impression that she was thinking aloud, picking her way through shadows, plots and possibilities.

"Up until now I've been rather puzzled as to why they've picked on you. While you are quite striking and impressive, you're hardly the fanged and clawed beast that Jerro's Demon is supposed to be, and it would be so easy for the Cowled Wizards to conjure up a demon in order to publicly 'apprehend' and destroy it. I feel sure they have something up their sleeves, some trump card that will convince everyone that you really are this monster that they are frightening everyone with. I even wondered if you were a Bhaalspawn; I know there are a few still surviving, and with a trace of demon blood as well... but that's obviously not the case. The Bhaalspawn never fade into the background, they shout their presence whenever they enter a room."

She paused again, looked away from them, drummed her fingers anxiously – then nodded, as if coming to a decision. "However, I think I might know what the Cowled Wizards are up to. I have a very dear friend in Athkatla, a paladin of Torm. He was admitted to the scene of Ammon Jerro's death by the Knights of Helm, and he told me there was a faint but clear trace of a demonic presence there. He was sure that he would recognise it again, and so would many other experienced paladins. I do wonder, my dear, what they would say if the Cowled Wizards paraded you before them. Would they recognise the same demonic trace?"

Nalia turned to Danno, and her expression was troubled. There was no anger, no aggression, but a feeling of... caution? Wariness?

"I also wonder, Knight Captain, what happened after Ammon left you at the gates. He sounds like a cruel and misguided man, who killed lightly and often. He appeared to threaten you. Did you, I wonder, strike first in self defence? This marvellous blade of yours... you mentioned a, what was it now, a 'shard storm'. Would that have left Ammon looking as if he'd been clawed to death? Did you and Neeshka kill Ammon Jerro?"

There was growing concern in Nalia's voice now, and a suggestion of something harder. "Have other victims of 'Jerro's Demon' died at your hands?"

"_NO!_" Danno had leapt to his feet, horrified not so much by the veiled accusation, but by who was making it. Distraught, thinking only of keeping Nalia's help (_and I don't want her to despise me, I really don't_), he was hardly aware of his surroundings until he heard Khelgar's voice.

"Easy now lad. I'm always up for a good fight I am, but dodging arrows isn't the same – not if the archers are up too high, if you get my meaning."

Danno turned to him, off balance and bewildered. All his companions were sitting very still. Khelgar caught Danno's eye and nodded up toward the gallery above the reception hall. Danno couldn't see anything in the shadows up there, but then he heard the faint creak of a bowstring.

_Oh gods. I don't want to fight Nalia. She saved Neeshka, she's a good person... She'd wipe us out._

He turned back to Nalia, who was still sitting, still with that troubled, unhappy look on her face.

"I swear to you, I am no murderer. Even Ammon... he attacked us first. Yes, I have killed in Athkatla, but always, _always _in self defence. Or... or in defence of others."

Nalia watched him steadily, then sat back and gestured for Danno to sit down. "Convince me," she said. "There's something you're hiding from me. Maybe several things. I think you're good people, all of you, and I want to help you. But I can't counter the Cowled Wizards' accusations, unless I know everything. I've trusted you," _she's talking to me now, about last night, _"won't you trust me?"

Danno looked at Neeshka. She was glaring at him, her jaw clenched, her mouth a thin line. "Neeshka, I have to tell her. You do understand, don't you?"

"Hmph!" Neeshka stood. Anger turned her movements angular and graceless. "Well you can just tell her whatever you want. _I'm_ going to go and practice some magic, because it looks like a thief isn't _good_ enough for you any more." She turned and swept regally towards the grand doors from the reception hall. _I wonder what she's most upset about. Nalia knowing about her thieving last night, Nalia knowing about Garius torturing her, or everybody knowing about Ammon trapping her?_

Sand hurriedly stood as well. "Ah. Well I think that _perhaps_ I had better accompany her. If she tries casting unattended, well who knows what may happen? Possibly the end of all life as we know it. With your Ladyship's permission, of course. I presume, while there are still some, ah, _tensions_, that an escort will be necessary?"

Nalia tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table, then inclined her head graciously. "Of course you can accompany her. Randolph will see to your needs. You know Randolph, my Guard Captain?"

"Why, of course. _Most_ generous of him to devote his time to us." Sand bowed elegantly and hurried after Neeshka, as the guards stepped aside from the doors they had been blocking and allowed her to leave.

Nalia turned back to Danno... and waited. So he told her everything.

He told her about Neeshka's abduction and torture by Garius; about how she defied Garius, even under the torment of a binding spell, while Qara turned on them for no better reason than pride and petty spite. He prompted the others to tell her of the attack in the slums, his own near death and their fear of using the spells that would save him; of their desperate search for a healer, and their hasty decision to take shelter in the temple of Talos.

Danno admitted his plan to summon and unleash Zaxis (at which Nalia grew pale), and told her of how it had all gone wrong, and how he had killed Ammon while Neeshka shrieked in torment in a demon trap. The others, whatever they may have guessed, hadn't heard this before. Grobnar murmured "Oh my. Oh Neeshka!" Elanee hissed faintly between her teeth, and Khelgar muttered oaths in a furious undertone.

Finally, as the morning wore on, Danno told Nalia of finding Neeshka gloating over the items she'd stolen from the De'Arnise family vault, of their argument, and of handing the items back to her castellan.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Nalia sat gazing at her hands, while Danno and his companions waited. Then she looked up, shame and unhappiness on her face.

"I'm so sorry. I've misjudged you all terribly. I forgot that sometimes even good people have things that it pains them to talk about – or that they're scared will be misunderstood. I'm afraid I've become too used to the dealings of the Council. I swear, I will do everything in my power to protect all of you, especially poor Neeshka, from the Cowled Wizards and the rest of the Council. Not to frustrate them, but because you've been through more than anybody should.

"At least you are safe while you're on my estate. A direct attack on a Councillor or their guests... that would terrify the other Councillors, and when they are frightened they are very dangerous. Even the Cowled Wizards won't risk that. So please, take your ease. My servants will provide anything you want, if they can. And I suppose I must find Neeshka and..."

"I don't think that would be wise."

Nalia looked at Elanee in surprise. Elanee continued, choosing her words carefully.

"Neeshka is... ashamed of being helpless. Ashamed, and also afraid. She wants to be able to take care of herself, to rely on no-one. I don't know her well, not really, but I think she has spent much of her life persuading herself that those times when she was helpless, used, or dependent on someone else never happened. To try and remind her of such times would... I think it would humiliate her, even if it was meant kindly."

Nalia nodded uncertainly. "If you're certain. But there must be some way I can reassure her, and let her know she's welcome here."

"Huh. That's easy enough, just let her rob you blind. Or use you shamelessly, one or the other." Khelgar sounded exasperated, but he was smiling faintly... at least, Danno hoped he was. It was a bit hard to tell through the beard.

"I fear there is much in what Khelgar says," added Casavir. "Loyal and true as she is, she cannot be said to be... conventionally moral."

"You know, I always find that singing her my song about the time we fought that great red dragon seems to cheer her up." Grobnar addressed Nalia earnestly. "She always says the world seems a better place when I've finished! Or is it that, when I've finished, the world seems better...? Oh well, it's all the same, really!"

Nalia tried to hide a smile behind her hand, then realised there was no need, and laughed merrily. Grobnar looked delighted. Nalia's mood sobered.

"Thank you, for being honest with me. I'm so sorry that I pushed you to it. I do have a great deal of thinking to do, about what should be done next, and I must try to find out more of what dealings there have been between the Cowled Wizards and the rest of the Council. Some of the Councillors are very close to the Cowled Wizards, while others are, not more good, but more independent. If I can discover the messages and contacts between them, it will be a great help."

Casavir stood and bowed. "Then we shall leave you undisturbed." The others also stood, and they started to leave the hall. When Danno was almost at the door, Nalia spoke.

"Danno, could I have a moment?" She sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. Danno nodded to the others as they paused, then once they had left he went and sat down again. He waited. And waited.

"Danno, I was watching your face when you spoke of Neeshka being tortured, and... Danno, do you love her?"

_Hells. Oh gods and demons, now what do I say? The truth, perhaps? But what is the truth?! Maybe the question is also the answer, as Tarmas was so fond of saying._ Danno couldn't look Nalia in the face.

"I... I don't know. Honestly, I don't. I adore her. She's everything I'm not. She's eager and enthusiastic, usually. She isn't chained down by rules and duty. She's rude and opinionated. She doesn't spend all her time trying to keep things going, make everything work, keep everybody happy. And she isn't always thinking, thinking, thinking! She isn't always worrying about what she's doing, what she's done, what she should or... or shouldn't have done. She just does. She fascinates me, she... she's what I wish I could be. She's so beautiful it makes my heart ache. And she never turned on me, even tortured and compelled. The others were fighting for good, for what was right. She didn't care about that – she was fighting for me!"

He stopped. _I don't want to say the rest. I really don't..._ He swallowed hard, made himself carry on.

"She's also selfish, greedy and intolerant. And she's heartless. Oh gods, I wish she wasn't, but she is. The only reason she doesn't steal from the poor is that they haven't got anything worth stealing. She doesn't care for anybody's feelings except her own, she doesn't respect anybody's values except her own – not that she has any. We..." _and here it comes. The shameful truth. _Danno lifted his head and looked Nalia in the face.

"We've been lovers for several weeks." _Please don't look at me like that, not with such pain! Please look angry, disgusted, anything!_ "Even that is... warped. Wrong. Neeshka's idea of sex is, well it's what Khelgar said. She uses me shamelessly. I think it excites her to embarrass me; even to humiliate me. And I let her. She's like a drug, I can't get enough of her, but... she doesn't make me happy. I thought at first that she was all I wanted, everything I'd ever want, but she isn't, not really.

"I could never have a normal life with her. Never settle down and have a family. Never just hold her, and love her, and be loved by her. I... gods, I can't believe I'm saying this! I'm not sure she's capable of loving anyone. Maybe not even herself."

Danno was staring down at his hands again, unable to look at Nalia. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I should have told you. I just couldn't bear to be alone last night – and I couldn't bear to be with her." He still couldn't lift his head. Didn't even know if she was still there. "If you want me to leave your home I will, but please don't blame Neeshka for what I did."

Silence, stretching on and on. _I don't believe it. She _has_ left! I've been pouring my heart out to an empty room. Except for the archers and servants, I suppose. Hope they enjoyed the show._ He looked up. Nalia was sitting there, not speaking, not looking at him, picking at a loose thread on the lap of her gown. Her fingers were the only part of her that was moving. Eventually even they stopped. She sighed wearily.

"I was besotted with him you know." Her voice was very quiet, very distant. "My death god. Not that he was ever mine, you understand. He only had eyes for his beloved, she was the sun and the moon and the stars for him. I loved him all the more for that, because he was so good and true, it made his power and ferocity wonderful instead of terrifying. He wasn't good by nature of course, but the poor dear was so _determined_ to be good, to defy his heritage. I loved him for that, too.

"I must admit, when I met you I saw him in you. Oh, not to look at, dear me no. But you were so determined to do the right thing. And like him, you were so hurt. I'm afraid that he could tell poor Neeshka a few things about torture. When you told me of your loss, and wept... I remembered those nights that I heard him trying not to sob and wished I could comfort him. I think in some way I had the idea that taking you to my bed would feel like lying with the man I could never have."

She looked up, and smiled rather sadly. "Perhaps we are both selfish fools, in our own way. Still, I think you owe it to Neeshka either to remain faithful to her or to break up with her honestly. Whatever you decide, even..." she hesitated, bit her lip, seemed to struggle with herself over her next words. When she did speak, it was slowly and reluctantly. "Even if you don't decide, I don't think my chamber door will be locked while you're here. My nights have been lonely for several years now, and I did enjoy last night. I suppose that's very wrong of me, to put temptation in your way. Ah well."

She was silent, for a long while. Then she sat up straight, rubbed her eyes briefly and spoke with brisk determination.

"Still, enough of such matters. I wasn't lying when I said I had a lot of thinking to do. And spying, to be blunt. I'll ride to Athkatla, and be there for at least the rest of the day. Feel free to wander the estate, so long as you're on my lands you'll be safe. I may see you all this evening, and... I do hope I haven't distressed you too much."

She leant forward, touched his hand briefly, then rose and left the hall. Danno simply sat, staring after her and wondering if he'd died and been taken to some wonderful plane where one's sins were never punished. Or, thinking of Nalia's unlocked door, if it was one of the nine hells where one was condemned to eternal acts of betrayal, guilt, and self condemnation.

---

After Nalia left, Danno aimlessly wandered the corridors of the keep. He sat with Khelgar and Grobnar in the kitchens for a while, enjoying the bustle and busyness. When Grobnar started singing excerpts from his Ballad of the Shardbearer, Danno listened with fond amusement to the musical massacre for a while, then made his excuses and left the kitchen staff to their fate. Khelgar, inured by long experience and fortified by good ale, remained to offer them moral support in their time of need.

Elanee and Casavir had left the keep, and according to the staff were walking somewhere in the grounds nearby. Danno left them to it; he was sure that even in this parched summer Elanee would be able to find some shaded grove that was lush and fertile, and from what Casavir had told him it seemed such surroundings tended to turn her thoughts to other aspects of fertility. Danno expected they would want their privacy.

Eventually he came across Randolph, unobtrusively standing guard in a corridor. Danno was a little surprised; surely Nalia would have called him off his 'escort' duties. The expression on his face was also worrying, a sort of tight and disgruntled anxiety. Then all was made clear. From inside the room opposite came a familiar fizzing sound, followed by a resounding crash. Danno heard Sand's voice.

"Ah, and there goes the last of the ornaments. Really Neeshka, it is only a simple Magic Missile spell. One might _almost_ suppose that you were missing the target on purpose."

"Oh yeah, you reckon?"

"Not that I make any such accusation, naturally. However, now that the more fragile and above all _valuable_ contents of the room have been, shall we say, removed, perhaps you might try concentrating just a little harder, hmm? The breastplate, may I remind you, is over on _that_ side of the room."

"Hmph!"

Danno heard Neeshka muttering the syllables of the basic Magic Missile spell, fast and sulky. _Misfire. Total misfire, if anything happens at all._ There was a feeble sputtering sound, followed by two startled gasps, and the screeching, groaning sound of metal under terrible stress. Then a loud and very final sounding _BANG!_

"And the dreaded misfire strikes yet again."

"Well gee, I'm sorry! You don't have to keep on about it! Um. Are you ok?"

"I believe so. A little singed perhaps, but no worse thanks to this wonderfully solid couch. I must remember in future the _crucial_ importance of very heavy furniture when teaching magic."

"Yeah. Y'know, you can move pretty fast when you want to."

"A rather dubious distinction for a scholar, I feel. And quite by-the-by, that last misfire? _Not_ one to remember for future use, I think, unless you _especially_ want yourself and your companions punctured by red-hot shards of torn metal."

"Uh, I guess. Can you smell burning?"

Danno stepped away from the door, turned to Randolph and shrugged helplessly. "I think she's set the room on fire."

"What!?" Randolph opened the door a crack, swore, and started shouting for water. Danno beat a hasty retreat.

After a solitary noon meal, he sat in the library trying to read a tedious analysis of Amn's political structures. He was lost in wonder at how such shifting of alliances, manoeuvring for advantage, treachery, murder and politically expedient execution could be made to sound so dull. Finally, as he started to nod, he decided to make up for his lack of sleep the night before. He wandered toward the guest wing. _Of course, I don't have to sleep there._ He stopped.

_I could go to Nalia's chambers. I could be waiting there when she comes back._

_Or perhaps you could go to _Neeshka's _room and be waiting there when _she _comes back._

For maybe a minute he stood irresolute, balanced between two desires, two shames. Then he swore softly, and started walking.


	14. Trial

**Trial...**

The moonlight shone in through the open window, picking out the room in shades of silvery grey. Furniture formed black voids edged with moonlight, while ornaments sent out glints and soft gleams. The corners were deep, deep shadow, with ghostly hints of light where mirrors and glass cast back faint, confused impressions of the the moonlit room. All was silent, a hot and stifling hush, except for the sound of two people breathing heavily, their breaths gradually slowing, urgent tension easing.

Danno gazed down at Nalia's face. Even in the moonlight he could see she was flushed. He brushed a lock of hair away from her sweaty forehead. The silence, the heat, the moonlight, all gave the world an air of unreality. Everything seemed to drift, serene and peaceful. Surely this would last for ever, this one, perfect instant. Peace, calm, an end to all struggle, an end to fear, an end to loss and betrayal.

"Well well well. Looks like this situation needs some _special _attention!"

The dagger hammered into Danno's shoulder. He barely felt the pain of it, but the blow fell like a mace. He cried out, trying to roll away, his arm numb and useless. A hand knotted in his hair, pulling his head back, and he saw the flash of a blade in the moonlight.

Nalia smiled up at him, and wrapped her arms and legs tighter around him.

---

Danno thrashed up from sleep in a panic, tangled in bedding, his arm numb and useless.

"Hey, calm down! Gee, what's got into you?"

"Well I for one can't _possibly_ imagine what has upset him. Being woken by someone punching one in the shoulder is surely the gentlest of experiences."

"Ugh... uh... N-Neeshka? Sand? What in the hells is going on?" Danno struggled clear of his sheets and tried rubbing some life back into his arm. A rush of pins and needles brought reluctant movement back to it.

"There's soldiers coming, lots of them, and no-one knows where Nalia is! Come on!" Neeshka scurried from the room. She'd changed into a set of leather armour.

"Gods! Are we under attack?"

"It really is rather hard to tell. Randolph says not, but for a man that claims to be unworried he is looking remarkably pale." Sand was, a little surprisingly, looking pensive rather than nervous.

"Hells!" Danno struggled into his clothes and robes. _At least I've got all my combat spells memorised._

"Knight Captain, I hesitate to ask, but... are you avoiding Neeshka?"

Danno stopped pulling on his shoes, wobbling on one leg, and stared at Sand wildly. "You ask me a question like that _now_!?"

Sand looked away awkwardly. "Yes, well, perhaps it isn't the most opportune moment. It is simply that, when we were told you were sleeping, Neeshka did rather assume you'd be in her room. She was quite put out to find you in the one set aside for you, hence your somewhat rude awakening. Plus her alarm at the approaching soldiers, of course. I would rather that she were not _too_ distressed just at present. Should she attempt to cast, in a state of high emotion, the spells I have been teaching her... well I really cannot be held responsible for the consequences."

"And that's it, is it?" Danno hurried out of the room and started heading for the main courtyard. Sand followed closely. "You just don't want her casting misfires?"

Sand looked even more awkward, and muttered something irritably.

"What?"

"I _said_ that I have become rather fond of the young lady. I really wouldn't wish to see her upset unduly."

Danno stopped dead, nearly causing Sand to walk into him.

"You – you – gods! Are you in love with..."

"Mystra and Sehanine, no! It is simply that she shows remarkable promise. She really is a quite extraordinary student, despite her erratic and unruly nature. I would hate to see her abandon her studies over... some foolish disappointment."

"Right." Danno shook his head and started hurrying through the keep again. "Sand, there are SOLDIERS coming! Can we please talk about this some other time?!" _And I think __**I'm**__ an idiot!_

When they reached the courtyard the others were up on the walls. It was mid afternoon – Danno guessed he'd been asleep for perhaps a couple of hours. He was relieved to see Elanee and Casavir had returned. Beyond the walls, drawn up in formation some distance off, was a sizeable body of troops. _Nowhere near enough to even think of storming the keep though._ Danno noticed that there were far more keep guards in evidence than he'd seen since they'd arrived. He spotted Randolph and moved over to him.

"Do you know what they want?"

"Not yet. Their messenger is still talking to the castellan."

Danno peered down. The drawbridge was lowered (although the portcullis was down) and the castellan was standing on it in conversation with the messenger.

"The castellan? Shouldn't one of your guards be carrying out any parley?"

Randolph, tense and anxious, shook his head. "This isn't a parley. Those are soldiers of the Council, drawn from the various Lords' and Ladies' personal guards, and here on Council business. There are several of our own men among them, those who are currently assigned that duty. They're not attacking us or threatening us, so it's the castellan's job to provide hospitality."

"And yet he's providing 'hospitality' to a messenger, outside the walls, with the portcullis down. And I see you have men ready on the drawbridge winches."

Randolph turned worried eyes toward him. "I understand you commanded a keep during a siege. The Lady De'Arnise has also instructed me that you and your friends have her full trust, so I will trust you as well. The fact is, I have been unable to contact her Ladyship. Riding hard, as she intended, she should have been in Athkatla long since. But the household mage has spoken with his contacts in Athkatla, and they have no word of her.

"The council wouldn't send so many troops simply to deliver a message, and with her Ladyship seeming to have disappeared I fear the worst. And... and I am glad to have an experienced commander here. My experience is of skirmishes with bandits, and dealing with drunken and unruly guests. I have no experience of pitched battle or sieges."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Danno looked out at the Council soldiers, and tried to look and sound more confident and knowledgeable than he felt. "I can tell you one thing though, there aren't nearly enough soldiers out there to even think of attacking or besieging this keep – not with the number of defenders here. Whatever's going to happen it won't be that."

Randolph smiled thinly. "That is some weight off my mind. My apologies, you must think me very foolish."

"Randolph, less than a year ago I'd never even seen a soldier. If you haven't had to learn, there's no shame in not knowing. Why did Nalia ride to Athkatla anyway? Couldn't she have used a gateway?"

"Her Ladyship is somewhat reluctant to use planar travel except in an emergency. It seems there are spells that can intercept the travellers and deposit them in the middle of an ambush."

"What? I've never heard of that!"

Randolph shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation straying into areas even further outside his experience than siege warfare. "It is a little known technique, I understand, even among the Drow who discovered it. But the Lady Nalia prefers not to assume the Cowled Wizards haven't learnt it or discovered something similar."

"Hm. Well it looks like the 'hospitality' is over."

The castellan came in through a sally port, and hurried to speak to Randolph, while the messenger returned to the troops. The castellan was carrying a scroll – a Council Writ. There was a brief conversation between the two of them, then Randolph turned to Danno. His expression was one of frustrated anger – and guilt.

"I fear we have just run out of options. This writ calls for your friend Neeshka, for all of you, to be escorted under guard to Athkatla where you are to be questioned by the Council in emergency session. The writ... I am sorry. The writ is a majority decision by the Council; the only abstention is Lady De'Arnise. Even if she were here, she couldn't overturn or deny it."

"I see." Danno paused, looked around and noticed Casavir listening attentively to the conversation. He caught Casavir's eye, saw him put his hand to his mace. _This could turn ugly._ He looked back at Randolph, and fear twisted into aggression. "And what makes this different from when Neeshka was arrested in Athkatla? Well? You could challenge that writ alright, so just what makes _this_ so damned _special_!"

"Sir, please, calm down." Randolph was also looking fearful – and controlling it far better than Danno. "That other writ was only signed by a couple of the Council, cronies of the Cowled Wizards. It was a minority writ, and could be challenged by any one Council member. This writ is signed by a majority of the Council, it is _law_. It cannot be overturned except by a majority. I am truly sorry, but I must bow to its demands. If I don't I become outlaw, and so does anyone who refrains from arresting me.

"This entire estate could fall to fighting. Even if the majority elect to protect you and become outlaw, the Cowled Wizards would have carte blanch to take whatever actions they saw fit to enforce the Council's will. _Whatever_ actions!"

"So that's it. You turn us over to be questioned, convicted on whatever trumped up charge they come up with, and executed out of hand?"

Randolph looked Danno straight in the eye. "Yes. Maybe if Lady Nalia was here she would fight the whole nation of Amn to protect you. To 'do the right thing'. But she isn't here, and the lives of all the innocents on this estate are _my_ responsibility. I will protect them, even at the cost of your lives. Even at the cost of my soul."

To that, Danno had no reply.

* * *

They travelled back to Athkatla under guard – and escorted. Many of Nalia's household guard travelled with them, ostensibly to support the Council soldiers but in reality to ensure no foul play. Or, as Sand acidly commented, "To postpone the foul play until it can be carried out by the Council. Properly _legal_ foul play, as it were."

Danno and Sand had been hard pressed to convince the others that they should go along with this for now. As Danno had expected, Khelgar was prepared to fight, and Neeshka swore she'd rather go out fighting the Council soldiers and the whole keep (at which Randolph paled) rather than be locked up and maybe tortured. In fact, she went on about this at some length, almost growing hysterical, and Danno was afraid she might start attacking people randomly. What made it even harder to calm her down was that Casavir and even Elanee seemed to support her.

"I would rather end my days here, in the open air and in sight of the living land, than trammelled up in a dungeon within that lifeless and unnatural city."

"Speaking purely for myself, I would _rather_ end my days as late as possible, whatever the surroundings."

"I believe that is fear rather than your good sense speaking. There are worse ways to die than in battle; far worse."

In the end, rather to his surprise, it was Danno's argument that persuaded the others to go to Athkatla.

"Listen, we're out in the open here. If we fight, we die, simple as that. There's nowhere to hide and no way of running. Even if we could get clear of the keep without the soldiers spotting us, any half-competent scryer would see us in an instant.

"In the city though, there are a thousand bolt-holes. If we make a break for it there, then it is at least possible for us to disappear in the confusion, go to ground somewhere. The city isn't just big, it's heaving with people; even the best scryers would have to search room by room, street by street, cellar by cellar. There are the temples, which the Council might be wary of attacking for political reasons; Helm, Illmater, Waukeen, hells, even the Temple of Talos would be more secure than this keep. There's the Shadow Thieves; the Cowled Wizards have never been able to dislodge them. If we could make ourselves more valuable to them alive than turned in, we might keep going a long time. And there are the docks; if we can stay low long enough, the doldrums _might_ break. Get on a ship without being spotted and we're free and clear.

"I know it's a poor chance, but in the city there is at least a chance, especially for Neeshka. Here, we have no chance at all."

While Danno was relieved that his argument won them over, he wasn't at all sure that he believed it himself. Mostly he thought that the longer they could put off the inevitable fight to the death, the more likely that _something_ would turn up to either tip the balance in their favour, or help them to escape a fight at all. He couldn't think what, though. He was certain that Nalia was either dead or 'detained' by the Cowled Wizards until the Council could present her with a fait accompli.

Eventually the portcullis was raised, and they and Nalia's household guard set off, joined by the Council soldiers. The captain of the soldiers was irritated by the presence of the household guard. With the companions placed between the two groups it looked more as if they were being escorted by bodyguards than being under arrest. The fact that he couldn't refuse the assistance of the Lady De'Arnise's guards without causing a diplomatic incident seemed especially galling to him.

Along with the household guard, Randolph had sent four trackers, who constantly ranged out to either side of the road; ostensibly seeking to 'frustrate any ambushers who might seek to rescue the prisoners', in reality searching for any clue as to Nalia's disappearance. Randolph was certain she would have ridden the same route, and she plus four bodyguards shouldn't have just vanished into thin air. Randolph didn't, however, tell the Council soldiers of her disappearance.

"If they are responsible (which I doubt), and they think we are unaware, they won't be so careful in trying to misdirect us and they will be less likely to try and murder you on the way."

Randolph accompanied them. While he wasn't prepared to lay the staff of Nalia's keep open to the anger of the Council and the Cowled wizards, he claimed he was willing to risk his own life should it come to a fight. The household guards who came with them were all volunteers who had made the same declaration. If they did defy the Council, then it would be only themselves who would suffer – they hoped.

---

It was late, almost dark, when they arrived in Athkatla, but they were taken straight to the Government district, to the Council of Six building, and then to a courtroom. _Clearly, _Danno thought, _we're not going to be given any time to get our stories straight._ They were then left sitting on hard benches for more than an hour, after which several paladins were ushered in to the room and shown to comfortable seats off to one side. _Ah. The witnesses to Neeshka being Jerro's Demon. Looks like Nalia had the shape of it. _Even as they were shown in, some of them looked at her sharply – and gazed at Khelgar and Casavir with doubt and confusion. Sand leant towards Danno.

"Well, it seems as if our accusers may have made their first mistake. I do believe these paladins may be less sure of accusing a paladin and a monk of Tyr, albeit by association, than they would be of accusing an unknown tiefling. We may come through this yet."

Danno smiled thinly. "Only if they're unsure enough to actually lie when questioned by the Council. We can be sure the Council will only ask the questions that condemn us. This isn't a fair court – I doubt we'll be allowed to cross examine them."

"Hmmm. You may be right." Sand shook his head regretfully, then brightened up a little. "Still, if you are, at least I shall hang knowing we made a lawyer out of you."

"I bet you'd rather you had failed, and I was wrong."

"Quite."

Finally, the Councillors entered. Five of them, four men and one woman – not Nalia. They didn't enter with great majesty or ceremony, for all that they were seated above everyone else on ornate chairs. Three entered as if they had enjoyed a pleasant evening meal, and then been required to carry out a tedious chore instead of relaxing with their families. Two, a greasy looking man and the stick-thin woman, looked smugly eager. They all entered, above all, as if they wielded such power and self confidence that they had no need for the props of ceremony. Danno thought that they could teach Lord Nasher a thing or two about intimidating majesty.

Looking at them, Danno almost failed to notice a sixth figure that followed them in, until Sand murmured "I see our accuser has arrived." Danno tore his attention away from the Council to see a cowled figure take a seat almost beside and only just below the Councillors. It was the wizard who'd arrested Neeshka... _Gods, was it only yesterday?_ Neeshka, very quietly, made a 'woof-woof' sound. The wizard glared murderously at her. _Oh well, he was going to kill us anyway. I suppose she can't really make it worse._ The eager, greasy looking Councillor spoke up.

"Since it would appear that the Lady De'Arnise is unable to attend, I move that we declare a majority quorum and proceed."

"Yes, yes, let's just get on with it." A sour and hard-faced elderly man, who then muttered "Pretentious little oik."

The greasy Councillor pursed his lips angrily, but instead of responding turned to the wizard.

"Master Altan, would you present the case against the accused?"

"'The accused'?" interrupted an aggressive looking, bull-necked Councillor of middle years. "The writ I signed was for them to be questioned. Trying to play us for fools are you?"

_Thank the gods, someone on our side._

"I'm sure Lord Colliard simply misspoke himself."

The bull-necked Councillor gave the woman a contemptuous glance. "Lady Darrance, I was talking to Master Altan. Colliard couldn't speak for himself if you gave him lessons for a month."

"Lord Torrefin!"

"Oh don't bother acting all shocked. It's not like these gutter sweepings will be alive tomorrow to tell the world what a lick-spittle moron Colliard is."

_Damn!_

One of the paladins present cleared his throat warningly; and was glared into intimidated silence by Lord Torrefin.

"Perhaps if you would allow Master Altan to outline the suspicions which Lady De'Arnise's guests must answer to?" asked the elderly Councillor.

"Hmph. That's more like it," Torrefin growled. "Just remember, Altan, _we_ are the law in this city, not you."

"I bear it in mind every waking minute, Lord Torrefin."

"I'll bet you bloody do."

While the bickering had been going on, Danno had been thinking furiously. He was convinced now that this was where they'd have to escape from, if they were going to do so. It was clear even those Councillors who despised the Cowled Wizards had already decided they'd be dead by morning. Once they were separated and led to the cells there was no hope for them. So it was now or never. The problem was, as soon as they were out of the building they'd be swamped by Cowled Wizards. Five or six they could handle with no difficulty. A dozen would be hard to deal with, but perfectly possible – if most of them were only average in power and skill. But twenty? Thirty? Forty? All at once or coming at them in groups, they'd either be overrun or worn down.

He worried fretfully at the problem. _Just take out the guards, bolt and scatter? Try to fight our way to a safe haven? Not good enough, none of it good enough. We need a way of keeping the Cowled Wizards off our backs! Some way of distracting them, or diverting them. A lure, a wild goose chase, some sort of bluff or threat, or... leverage._

_The Council!_

Of course! The Councillors clearly had power, serious power, but it was the power of law, of wealth, of trade, of armies and prestige. It wasn't personal power, except perhaps for Lord Torrefin who looked as if, armed and armoured, he'd be a deadly fighter. The Cowled Wizards on the other hand had immense direct power. Even stripped of all wealth and resources, as an organisation of ruthless spellcasters they could do almost anything they wanted in Amn.

Yet the Council were still in charge, nominally at least. Why? Because the Cowled Wizards needed them; perhaps as the public face which dealt with other nations if nothing else; perhaps because the people of Amn would be unmanageable if they had to admit that the feared Cowled Wizards were in total control.

_So the Council are valuable. Five valuable people who are right in front of us, and _**we**_ are stronger than them. Which makes them... Hostages!_ Danno knew he was grinning ferociously and didn't care, despite the looks he was getting. Even as Altan spoke, 'outlining his suspicions', he rose to his feet. _No empty bluffs now, because I _**will** _kill the Councillors if we're attacked. Starting with... oh hells, it doesn't matter, they're all as bad as each other._

Behind him, a door slammed open with an impressive boom.

"The Lady Nalia Delcia De'Arnise!"

"Oh, I do hope I haven't missed too much."

Danno turned... and gaped. Nalia strode through the court toward the Council seats, her step confident, her expression determined - a ragged slash across her bodice (hastily pinned together) and the front of her gown drenched from throat to hem with blood. Already turned brown and stiff, but definitely blood. _Ugh, the stink of it! What happened to her?!_

"De'Arnise!" The bull-necked Lord Torrefin was on his feet, his voice a strangled roar. "You're injured!"

"It really is nothing Lord Torrefin. Nothing that a rod of resurrection and a dozen healing potions couldn't cure. My guard Willem, dear boy, remembered his Sergeant's lessons very well indeed."

"What!? You... you died?"

"Only very briefly, I do assure you."

Lord Colliard leant toward Nalia as she took the empty seat. "You were attacked by bandits? How dreadful! Surely you are in no state to attend Council business. Why, you must be... traumatised! You should rest!" Danno thought he sounded panicky. Nalia smiled at him brightly.

"Why Lord Colliard, your concern is quite touching, but I am certainly capable. After all, I've died often enough that it is hardly traumatic!" Nalia laughed merrily, then sobered abruptly. "Although I do wonder why you assume I was attacked by bandits. Really, as if mere bandits could inconvenience me."

Lady Darrance pulled a prim and distasteful moue. "I'm sure we're all aware of your... your martial prowess."

"I'm sure you are. And I'm sure Lord Colliard is. Of course, my attackers were _dressed_ as bandits."

"Are you implying something?" A dapper young Councillor who hadn't spoken before posed the question in a bored and rather effete voice.

"Not at all Lord Parish. I'm sure anything less than an outright accusation would be lost on Lord Colliard."

Lady Darrance sniffed disapprovingly, while Lord Torrefin barked with laughter.

"Well at least the... the scoundrels who did this have met their just deserts." Lord Colliard pulled an exaggeratedly frustrated face. "A damn shame we won't be able to question them."

"Oh, but we will."

"What!?"

"Indeed, that's how I came to be inconvenienced." Nalia was still smiling at him, but it was a cool and predatory smile now. "After I had disabled and disarmed them, quite tricky given their training and equipment, we found that some fortifying potions provided by their employer had been doctored with a slow-acting poison, no doubt to silence them – whether they succeeded or not. The poor things all went into the most horrible convulsions. I was so busy forcing antidote potions down their throats that I didn't notice one had a hidden blade." She sighed, and cast down her eyes in theatrical, mock self deprecation. "Most careless of me, really."

Then she looked up again, no longer bothering to smile, her gaze even colder and more predatory. "Still, his... compatriots, who were rather more devoted to their lives than to their treacherous employer, did sterling service in subduing him while Willem saw to me. Really, I didn't even need to Charm them for them to become most co-operative. I took them back to my estates by the fastest cross-country route, and all the while they were comparing accounts of who they thought had employed each of them, and trying to figure out his real identity.

"Imagine my surprise when I found that, in my absence, my guests were summoned to appear before the Council, and that it was Lord Colliard who had proposed this... at remarkably short notice."

Danno, who had long since sunk back onto the bench, couldn't help noticing that Colliard looked sick; and that the wizard Altan and Lady Darrance had carefully schooled their expressions into stillness. It seemed that the dapper Lord Parish had also been paying attention, and had started to enjoy himself immensely.

"Such good fortune that your attackers live to be questioned. _So _good to know we may well get to the bottom of this terrible attack. Don't you agree Lady Darrance, Master Altan?"

Lady Darrance summoned up a thin and brittle smile that looked as if it might shatter her face or, if the look in her eyes was anything to go by, fly right off her face and slice Lord Parish's throat. Altan didn't move a muscle.

"Well I certainly agree," said Nalia. "After all, anyone who attacks one of the Council might attack any of us. And that is not to be countenanced, I am sure we all agree."

The elderly Councillor suddenly interrupted. "I think we should take this discussion elsewhere."

"Agreed," said Lord Parish. The Councillors rose, of one mind on this point at least. "And maybe Lady De'Arnise would like to change and refresh herself?"

Nalia seemed to consider this for a moment. "No, I think that during our discussions we'd do well to have a reminder of the consequences of certain actions." She turned an emotionless gaze toward Lord Colliard and Lady Darrance. "The consequences for _everybody _concerned."

All six of them left the chamber by a small side door. Altan rose as if to follow, but was stopped in his tracks by a look from Torrefin. If the Councillor had been intimidating when he was glaring and throwing his weight around, the narrow sidelong glance he gave Altan was far worse.

"Not you, wizard." His voice was soft and deadly. Altan sat as if his legs had been kicked from under him. The side door closed.

Danno realised he was shaking like a leaf.


	15. and Consequences

**... and Consequence**

They waited, in near silence, after the trial that wasn't. Minutes drifted into hours. Neeshka complained a couple of times about how long the Council were taking, but her heart wasn't really in it. Khelgar muttered unhappily to himself now and again, but even his usually forthright nature seemed rather cowed. The whole room seemed so sunk in nervous anticipation that it was quite a shock when Grobnar brightly and loudly asked where he could relieve himself.

There was some muted discussion among the guards in the courtroom, and then two escorted him off and escorted him back. Then they seemed to take it for granted that everybody else had to be escorted to relieve themselves, one by one, in an order determined by some impenetrable logic understood only by the guards themselves. Nobody bothered to protest that they were desperate and needed to go immediately – nor even that they didn't need to go at all.

Finally, as the midnight hour was being called, the Council returned. Lady Darrance looked as if she'd been held down and forced to suck lemons for two hours; her expression wouldn't simply have curdled milk, it would have curdled the whole cow. Lord Colliard was practically grovelling, and sported an impressive black-eye. Nalia, to Danno's surprise and growing concern, wore an expression of tight-faced anger, as did Lord Torrefin. Lord Parish looked grave, and only the sour faced old Councillor (_Damn, what is his name?_) looked much as he had when he'd left the room – but he'd looked pretty displeased then anyway.

They sat, then Lord Parish stood.

"For consorting with an undesirable personage, namely Ammon Jerro of Neverwinter, now deceased, the following persons are commanded by order of the Council of Six to quit forthwith the City of Athkatla and all her holdings, even to the farthest bounds of the nation of Amn;

Knight Captain Danno Benner of Neverwinter, Commander of Crossroads Keep.  
Khelgar Ironfist, Lord of the Ironfist clan  
Sir Casavir, Paladin of Tyr.  
Elanee, Druid of Merdelain.  
Grobnar Gnomehands, Bard of Lantan.  
Neeshka, thief and tiefling of Neverwinter.

"They are granted six months to leave the territories of Amn, on condition that the Council are satisfied that they make all efforts toward that end. All citizens of Athkatla and Amn are commanded by order of the Council of Six that these named persons are to be granted safe passage. Any attack upon their persons or harm directed toward them shall incur the wrath of the Council."

He sat, and Lord Torrefin stood.

"By order of the Council of Six, the Cowled Wizards of Amn are to turn over to the Council all documents, records, notes, monies, promissory notes and messages relating to or concerning in any manner the following persons;

Terrance Cordelay of Athkatla, assassin.  
Carrador of Waterdeep, assassin.  
Amalon Veriard of Athkatla, assassin.  
Benny of no fixed abode, butcher.

"Failure to comply with all haste, denial of the existence of said items, or failure to satisfy the Council that none of the said items have been destroyed, obscured or absconded with, shall be answered for by Master Altan of the Cowled Wizards of Amn, who shall be put to hard questioning if the Council are not satisfied in all particulars.

"The wills, resources and full might of the Lords and Ladies of the Council of Six are united in this declaration."

This last sentence was directed straight at Altan, along with a look of utter rage. Danno was vaguely surprised that Torrefin didn't simply leap forward and tear the wizard's throat out with his teeth. He couldn't help smiling at Altan's clear dismay and alarm – until the same look was directed straight at him. He stopped smiling instantly, and had to suppress the urge to either run away or attack wildly.

The Council stood and left the courtroom. Altan leapt to his feet and, without a word, white faced and trembling, stormed out. For a while none of the companions spoke. The paladins looked awkwardly at each other, then started to leave themselves. Grobnar piped up.

"I'm sorry, terribly remiss of me I know, but I don't quite follow what just happened. Didn't they want to ask us some questions? Or did I imagine that part? That has happened before, although I had been trying a new recipe for toadstool pie at the time, so I'm almost certain... well, mostly certain..."

"We've been banished. Hells hells... hells!" To Danno's surprise, Neeshka seemed torn between fury and despair. _Damn, I thought she'd be used to this sort of thing._

"Still, it's not a complete disaster," commented Sand. "It would appear that we have a guarantee of safety, and speaking _purely_ for myself I think that is rather welcome."

"But I really like Athkatla! I mean, sure, people keep trying to kill us, but we showed them, didn't we? And anyway..."

Danno rested his hand on her shoulder. "Neeshka, we got lucky, we can't get lucky every time. And Sand's right, we've got safe passage. Isn't that better than being burned alive, or running out just ahead of a mob?"

"Hmph!"

"It... it's an outrage is what it is! Me, Khelgar Ironfist, turned out like... like a criminal! That's never happened to me before, never!"

Casavir raised an eyebrow. "I thought you did not wish to remain here for longer than was necessary, Khelgar."

"That's not the point!"

Neeshka turned on Khelgar, looking for someone to vent her anger on. "Oh, gee, I'm so sorry you don't like it. Being made to do what you wanted to anyway must be sooo hard!"

"Watch it, Tiefling." Khelgar bristled at her sarcasm, in no mood for exchanging insults.

"I must admit," sighed Elanee, "it will be a relief to put this city behind us. To travel again, and sleep under the open skies..."

Sand rolled his eyes. "Oh joys. I knew there was some _unutterable_ delight in store that had slipped my mind."

Danno wandered miserably away from the bickering group, and sat down on one of the chairs vacated by the paladins. _Ah. Much more comfortable._ He closed his eyes and listened, waiting for the argument to settle down – or escalate to the point where he had to step in to prevent bloodshed. _I wonder if they really would start fighting. Oh well, at least I can give them someone they can _all_ be angry at._

"I'm so sorry."

He jumped, and looked round. Nalia had quietly re-entered the room, and was sitting beside him, a rich velvet travelling cloak wrapped round her.

"S-sorry? What are you sorry about?" _Oh gods, what's gone wrong now?_

"I should have been able to get you off completely. Oh, I'm such a fool!" Frustrated anger was written across her features, and her hand clenched into a fist where she held the cloak closed, bunching and creasing the thick material. Then she relaxed a little, shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I said too much to the rest of the Council. I so wanted to get an assurance of your safety! If I had simply pushed for the Cowled Wizards to be called to account for the attack on me..."

Danno sat up straight, looking at her in alarm. "That really happened?! I thought you were just framing... gods, I don't know, someone!"

She gave him an amused look. "Oh, no, it really happened. Not that the Cowled Wizards would have ordered any such thing, of course, they're much too sensible for that. They probably just wanted me delayed, and that idiot Lord Colliard misunderstood his orders – or thought he was being clever and making a play for more power."

"And you... you really..."

"Died? Oh yes. The worst part was disappointing him – my friend, the Bhaalspawn, I mean. He did try so hard to be nice about it, but he feels that a death should _matter_, not just be a silly mistake. He's still very idealistic, poor thing."

Danno glanced over at the others, still arguing irritably with each other. "I think this has just turned into the strangest conversation I've ever had in my life – and that's saying something. One of the only believers in a new god should be evangelising, not talking about him with... fond condescension!"

"Well he never was very religious."

"And the strangeness keeps coming. So what went wrong in that council meeting? Not that I'm complaining!"

"That's very kind of you." Nalia shook her head ruefully. "I tried to get the others to extend the Council's protection to you because the Cowled Wizards were persecuting you, and as the Cowled Wizards had attacked one of us we should punish them by depriving them of their quarry."

"Sounds good to me."

"I'm afraid it didn't sound good to Lord Alucard."

"The sour old man?"

"Exactly. That man has a mind like a serpent!" She glared toward the door the Council had left the chamber by, as if she could still see the object of her anger beyond it. "He wouldn't let it go, and he managed to work out that the Cowled Wizards attacked me _because_ of you. That made you the cause of the whole sorry affair. Now we have a crisis between the Council and the Cowled Wizards, and he would be much happier killing those responsible. The only reason he settled for banishment is that Parish and Torrefin supported me, and Colliard is now so terrified of Torrefin he'd do whatever the man said."

"Torrefin supported you? I'm amazed. I'd have thought he'd rather eat us alive, the way he looked at me." Danno shivered at the memory.

"Oh he would, he would. But the Cowled Wizards tried to use Colliard against me, and that sort of division threatens the power of the Council. Lord Torrefin will _not_ accept that, and just now he wants to hurt them any way he can – short of open warfare. Also, he doesn't want to antagonise me. He's already asked me to marry him twice."

"_**WHAT!!??**_"

Silence fell in the chamber, all sounds of arguing cut off.

Nalia giggled. "Well you certainly have stopped your friends quarrelling. Oh do relax, I'd rather marry a rabid dire-boar. I'm sure I'd be a lot safer and happier. Now, shall I remind Neeshka of the clause about how long you are all exiled for, or do you want to?"

"What? I don't remember any... such... oh."

"Quite. You know, I very nearly had to strongly imply that I would attack Lord Alucard before he agreed to take out the 'exiled for the remainder of their natural lives' part. As it is you could just cross the borders, turn round and come straight back."

Danno glanced again at the others, all of them trying to overhear what he and Nalia were saying, none of them wanting to simply barge up and interrupt - except for Neeshka, who was being politely restrained by Casavir. "I can't wait to see Neeshka's reaction!"

"I'm sure she'll be pleased." Nalia's rather wicked smile faded. "So long as she's prepared to risk the Cowled Wizards. Our protection is only until you leave Amn, and Altan has cause to hate you now. If he doesn't provide us with proof that the Cowled Wizards plotted to kill me, he's going to be tortured. That's what 'hard questioning' means."

"But you said that it was Colliard!"

"And I'm sure it was, but if it is admitted that one of the Council attacked another Councillor then it is the end of us. The Council would fall apart in actual combat, not just political combat. So we demand that that the Cowled Wizards prove that they did it, and let them forge the proof. They'll probably blame it all on one of their most honest and upright members, to spare a monster like Altan from justice." Nalia looked sick as she said this. "I'm afraid that is Athkatla for you."

Danno looked at her unhappy, resigned expression - and hesitated. He wanted to reach out, comfort her, hug her, but he was acutely aware of the others watching. Of Neeshka watching. In the end, he settled for a brief, tentative touch on Nalia's shoulder. "You deserve better than fighting against that."

She gave him a knowing, faintly bitter look. Then, as he tried not to cringe, her expression softened, and she smiled. "What a sweet thing to say. Now perhaps you'd better talk to your friends before they explode with curiosity. I think poor Casavir is having difficulty holding Neeshka back already."

---

Once Neeshka learned they could return as soon as they quit Amn, nothing would satisfy her but that they go as soon and as fast as possible so they could come back as soon as possible. In a babble of excitement and enthusiasm she swept them all out of the Council building and towards the Mithrest inn – having been assured by Nalia that quitting Athkatla 'forthwith' meant within a day, not instantly. At some point Nalia quietly disappeared, leaving Randolph to give Danno her apologies and a promise to see them off the next day.

Danno felt both unhappy and relieved. He'd wanted to say goodbye to Nalia in private, to try and resolve things between them; he felt they were parting badly, and he didn't want to leave things as they were, tinged with awkward embarrassment and disappointment. On the other hand, he had no idea what he'd have said to her. "I love you"? "I'm sorry"? "I'll come back to you"? "Please forgive me"? Perhaps, after all, 'goodbye' was all he could say – and he could say that in public just as well as in private.

When they got back to the Mithrest Inn (accompanied by Randolph and several of Nalia's guards), Neeshka was persuaded to leave their departure until the next day by the simple expedient of everybody else trooping off to their rooms and pointedly locking their doors, despite her insistence that they could pack and leave before dawn and "who needs sleep anyway?"

Danno lay on the bed, and watched Neeshka roaming restlessly around the room, randomly picking things up and putting them in the wrong bags, and chattering. On and on. What route they'd take, where the closest border was, would they _really_ have to head North just because Neverwinter was that way, were there any towns with rich pickings on the way...

_Hells, why doesn't she just shut up? This isn't like her, she doesn't chatter._ He propped himself up on one elbow, watched her more carefully. There was something feverish about her, something different from her usual controlled energy.

"Neeshka, come to bed, we can pack in the morning. We'll just have to hang around waiting for the others anyway."

"Oh yeah? Why should we wait for them?" She gave up on trying to wrap a spare set of leathers around a chamber pot (_what in the hells does she want with __**that**_), and tossed both irritably into a corner.

"Because, annoying as they are, they're still our friends, we've been through a lot together. And you'd miss insulting Khelgar and learning magic from Sand."

Neeshka shrugged. "I guess."

"So, come to bed?"

"I'm not sleepy."

"Neeshka, how can you not be sleepy? Between learning magic by day and going round thieving by night, when's the last time you had any proper sleep?" Neeshka just scowled, and went back to trying to cram a morningstar into a food bag. Danno tried again, trying to sound flirtatious. "Well if you're not sleepy, why not come to bed anyway?"

"Oh, gee, do you reckon you'd be able to _do_ anything?"

"Huh?" _What was that about? She knows I'm not..._

"I mean, it's not like you did anything today. You just sat there and let Lady Snooty get us exiled." She dropped the bag and turned on him, disappointment warring with contempt. "I thought you had a plan, I thought you were going to do something! Huh, I guess I was wrong."

Danno stared at her in bewilderment, then stood up and reached out to her. She didn't step away, but twisted her shoulder away from his touch.

"Neeshka, I did have a plan. I had two plans, both bad, desperate plans. You know the first one; wait for an opportunity, then make a run for it, try and fight our way out and scatter like hunted rats. My other plan was to take the Council and Altan hostage."

Neeshka looked surprised. "Really? Gee, that would've been kinda neat."

"No, it wouldn't. We'd have had to keep them hostage for days, maybe weeks, trying to negotiate our escape. We'd have had to stand guard all the time against attack or escape, and what if the Cowled Wizards had decided to attack anyway and blame us if the Council all died in the fight? Hells, they might have finished off any who did survive just to avoid witnesses, put their own pawns on the Council."

"Um..."

"Neeshka, I took a chance. I took a chance, when Nalia turned up, that she could help us, and if she didn't we'd still have been able to fight, run or turn hostage-taker. But she did help us. She got us a deal better than anything we could get any other way. It's not great, but it's something."

For a moment she just stood, staring at her feet. She'd wrapped her arms round herself, her tail twined around her knees. Then she sagged down onto the bed. "Oh... oh hells! I thought we were going to win! But nooo, we just get chased out – again!"

"But we are safe. Neeshka, _you're_ safe. That... that's important to me. Please believe me, I just did what I thought would keep us all safe. I don't..." _Oh gods, please believe me, I really mean this..._ "I don't want to see you hurt again."

He waited. _Have I said the right thing? Should I say more?_ Neeshka looked up at him, angry and fretful. Then she smiled thinly. "Kinda like stopping Stumpy from fighting everything he sees, huh?"

_Thank you! Whoever was listening, thank you!_ "Yes, kind of. You know the old saying 'fight and run, so live to fight anon'? Yes, we're running, and I don't like it either, but today it's the smart thing to do."

Abruptly she stood and turned her back on him. She said nothing for a while, then she sniffed disdainfully. "Yeah, well maybe you reckon it's smart, but it's kinda hard to run if your legs don't work right."

_Hang on, that makes no sense! And why does she sound so cheerful all of a sudden?_ Danno was still trying to figure this out when Neeshka suddenly turned and cast the spell she'd been forming.

"Whoa... Oof!" Danno tottered on legs that were suddenly too short and bent all the wrong ways, then fell sprawling on the carpet.

"Oh, gee, it worked! Sand said it'd be easier if I could do it without the words!" Neeshka grinned at Danno, then pounced. "Can you run away now?" she murmured throatily in his ear. "Y'know, I reckon this'll last a _long_ time."

"Neeshka! You can't..."

"Shhhh, shhhh. Let me just... Hey! This fur tickles!"


	16. Slow Going

**Slow Going**

They quit Athkatla early the following afternoon, again accompanied by Randolph and his men. Most of Danno's companions were either relieved to be going or, in Grobnar's case, cheerfully accepting. Danno was too exhausted to care, practically asleep on his feet, and even Neeshka was too subdued to complain. Danno couldn't help feeling a touch of smug satisfaction as he saw her trying to smother a yawn. _Ha! Managed to tire you out a bit, did I?_

Even so, there was a strong sense of discomfort as he recalled their night (and morning) of reconciliation, and it wasn't just the familiar discomfort at her bizarre tastes or lack of consideration. Something had come between them. Wearily, Danno worried at the sensation as they made their way to the city gate. There was Nalia, of course; whenever he thought of his troubled and intense relationship with Neeshka, there was the sneaky little thought that whispered _Wouldn't it be so much easier with Nalia? So much more reasonable? You could come back, you know. Without Neeshka._ And now, not only did he feel guilty at having cheated on Neeshka, but he couldn't shake the feeling that last night he had cheated on Nalia.

He swore quietly, hoisted his pack higher on his shoulder, and tried to clear his head. _I can't worry about this any more. It's all too damn difficult._ Khelgar, hearing his distracted muttering, gave him a sympathetic look and fell into step with him.

"Thinking about the Elven lass again, are you lad?" he asked quietly.

"No, I was thinking about Neeshka."

Khelgar looked faintly surprised, and rather pleased. "Well now, that's more like it! Not that I've got anything against the tiefling mind, but it's good to see you getting your thinking straight again."

Danno gave him a sidelong glance. "Why thank you Khelgar. If ever I'm in need of an understanding ear and tactful advice, I'll know who to turn to."

"Right! I'm thinking I'll have to do a lot more of this, now I'm head of the clan, but it doesn't seem so hard."

"Khelgar, it's been an education talking to you. I'm just going to talk to Grobnar for a bit."

When they reached the city gate they were met by Nalia, and what looked like a small army. It turned out to be a trading caravan, a fast-moving affair with light horse drawn carts, and a generous complement of tough looking mercenary guards. Nalia was deep in conversation with the caravan master, but on seeing Danno and the others she broke off and hurried over.

"Oh good, you're here." She sounded cheerful and friendly, but also brisk and slightly harried. "I've been speaking to Oredar here, and he's taken my recommendation of you as guards. On horseback, or cart for those who can't ride, you should be able to travel a lot faster than on foot. I do hope you'll agree to travel with him; I've entrusted some extremely valuable items to him, as have several notable citizens, and I'd hate to see them stolen by bandits."

_And this way, _thought Danno wryly,_ we'll be committed to leaving Amn on a fast schedule, the Cowled Wizards will be able to track us more easily, and the interests of these notable citizens will protect us from attack by the Cowled Wizards or the Council. How neat._

What he said was, "Lady De'Arnise, after all you've done for us it would be an honour to assist you."

"If we're looking after her things I sure hope we're gonna get paid." Neeshka was muttering, barely audible, but the caravan master (who had a keen ear for sotto voce comments regarding money) assured them that given the Lady De'Arnise's recommendation and the profit he hoped to make on this trip, he would be paying significantly more than the going rate. From the lack of protest or surprise from the other guards, Danno guessed this had all been arranged in advance.

As the caravan made to get underway, in a flurry of focussed chaos, Danno asked Nalia quietly "Can I have a word? In private?" She looked at him a little warily, then nodded and walked a short way from the gate into a deserted loading yard. Danno followed, with a quick look back to make sure Neeshka was fully occupied – the last thing he wanted was for her to sneak up unseen and eavesdrop. Nalia sat on a mounting block, and waited. And waited.

"Danno?"

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Oh. Then why..."

"Because I've got to say something! I can't leave things like this between us! You've saved all our lives, and all I've done is hurt you. That isn't right, and I don't know how to fix it!"

"Danno, I don't think you can fix it." Danno felt as if she had just slapped his face, but before he could speak she carried on. "I've learnt a great deal in the last few years. First travelling with the Bhaalspawn, then running my estates, and lately trying to survive on the Council. Danno, sometimes one makes mistakes that can't be fixed, that can't be made right.

"Yes, you hurt me. You let me think that you weren't with anybody, and you know that was wrong. But you can't change that, you can't turn back time, and you can't undo the hurt. All you can do is go on from here. All you can do," she stood, stepped close to him, looked straight into his eyes, "is decide what you're going to do and then do it."

She turned away, stood looking at the hubbub around the gate. "If it's any consolation, I don't hate you or despise you for what you did. We're all weak and foolish sometimes, and I'm more than a little to blame myself. I do hope, though, that you aren't so weak as to think you don't have to make a choice – or that you can put off making that choice."

Danno swallowed hard. _In other words, choose now and stick with it. Come back to Nalia, in time, or stay with Neeshka._ He looked at Nalia. Solemn and sad as she watched the preparations, but he'd seen her merry and laughing. She was tough, intelligent, kind. If he came back to her, he thought he'd be very happy. Maybe he could make her happy too. Then he looked over toward the gate, at Neeshka, as she shoved her baggage haphazardly on a cart, swapped insults with Khelgar and eyed up the mercenaries' purses. Flawed, broken Neeshka; jealous and insecure, needy and cruel; fiercely devoted.

"I... I'm sorry. I really am. I think... I think she needs someone, and... " he suddenly felt like laughing and sobbing both at once... "and who else is stupid enough to have her?"

Nalia turned back to him, a strange, wry smile on her lips. "Do the right thing, whatever the cost? Oh dear, such sad heroism." She stepped forward, kissed him lightly on one cheek. "Goodbye Knight Captain, Shardbearer. Try and be happy." Then she left, pausing to speak briefly to Randolph before disappearing with several of her guards back into the city. Danno stood in the empty yard, watching after her long after she'd disappeared.

"Hey, what's keeping you? We're leaving, come on!" Neeshka grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the departing caravan, then rolled her eyes in exasperation and darted off. Danno shook himself out of his inertia, and hurried to scramble on one of the carts.

---

They headed East, travelling toward the great Trade Way that ran the length of the Sword Coast and as far south as Calimport. At first they travelled quickly along a fine road, the horses trotting for much of the day. Danno was impressed that they so frequently saw gangs of men working to keep the road in good repair, but after a few days he realised why there were so many. This was a Doldrums year, and the vast ox-drawn caravans were already setting out. Beyond the range of the repair crews the road began to fail, with flagstones cracked under the weight of the huge lumbering wagons, cobblestones driven into the mud, and (now that the summer thunderstorms had started) mud churned into a rutted quagmire.

The last Doldrums year had been fifteen years ago, and neither Oredar the caravan master, nor the mercenaries, had been travelling the Trade Way that long ago. Oredar had badly underestimated how poor the state of the roads would be. By the end of the second day they were crawling at a painfully slow pace, spending much of their time helping to haul one or other of the carts out of ruts that had suddenly become deep ditches. Whenever the carts could manage it they abandoned the road and travelled beside it.

Oredar had hoped to travel from one village or staging post to another, sleeping at the inns and resting their horses at the stables. Now they travelled while there was light to see, and camped where they were when night fell. When they did reach habitation they stopped only to buy food, to exchange as many of their horses as they could for fresh ones (usually at ruinous rates), and would then press on until nightfall. Twice they camped with the lights of the last staging post still visible behind them.

Danno was amazed that their cargo could be worth all this trouble and expense. The cost of fresh horses alone was staggering, and the mercenaries (who spent much of their time covered to the chest in mud heaving on bogged down carts or portering goods across ruined stretches of road) were little cheaper. One evening, when they weren't so exhausted that they just collapsed into sleep at nightfall, he asked Oredar what on Toril they were carrying.

"Contraband, mostly," he said, poring over a worn and tattered map. He glanced up, and smiled reassuringly. "Oh, nothing disreputable, no need to fret. Enchanted armour and weapons, protective amulets and rings, that sort of thing. Family heirlooms for the most part, but some of them are new made. Being sent as wedding gifts or dowries to the great houses in other cities, or as payment for services rendered."

"And that's contraband?"

"Strictly speaking, yes. The making of newly enchanted items is regulated by the Cowled Wizards, and they charge a fortune for licenses. They charge a fortune for certifying an item as an heirloom rather than new made, too." Oredar grinned and winked. "Not many people pay the fee. Oh, the wizards are supposed to scry all cargoes going in or out, but the bribes for someone to look the other way are still way cheaper than the tariffs."

"Even so, they must be losing money!"

"Better to get a diplomatic gift there on time at great cost than save some gold and make enemies."

Danno gave frequent thanks for Grobnar's presence. The mercenaries, although well used to hard labour and long tedium, were grateful for any unusual distraction – and Grobnar was as unusual as they came. When travelling was easy they would have a competition to see who could tell the most outrageous and implausible tale as they rode, a competition that Danno was amused to note Grobnar almost always won. Danno wasn't at all sure that Grobnar had got the point of the competition, though. He was somewhat embarrassed at how often Grobnar won with an honest account of some episode in the fight against the King of Shadows.

In the evenings, when they had the energy for a fire and a cooked meal, the mercenaries would ask Grobnar to sing for them, and then try to sing along. Anybody who sang a correct note (instead of the note Grobnar sang) had to pay a forfeit, either a coin to Grobnar if they were popular, or if not they had to proposition Neeshka. The first time this happened she practically blistered the mercenary's ears off with a stream of gutter curses. The second time she accepted the victim's advances, with such a terrifying leer that the poor man promptly made his excuses and hid in the makeshift latrine all night. When it became known that Danno and Neeshka were lovers, the mercenaries started regarding Danno with a disturbing mixture of awe and sympathy.

In fact, although they slept together, Danno and Neeshka only made love once, and it was a furtive, silent, and joyless business. Neeshka, so uninhibited in private and (apparently) aggressively confident in public, was mortified at the thought of coupling in earshot of everyone else, let alone surrounded by the whole sleeping caravan. On the occasions when the camp was disturbed by muffled sounds of coupling from the darkness beyond their lamps, it was usually a couple of the mercenaries, or occasionally Elanee and Casavir, who were the target of teasing the next day.

On the whole, despite the slow journey and the hard labour, the group was reasonably content. The tensions between Danno's companions were greatly eased by being part of a larger party, and while the journey was difficult it was straightforward – struggle along the road during the day, sleep during the night, keep a desultory eye open for the bandits who never appeared. Grobnar enjoyed the tale-telling; Elanee and Casavir were content to be heading for Neverwinter, and content with each other's company; Khelgar was at last heading for his clanhold; and Danno was happy simply to be travelling with nothing much happening.

The only thoroughly discontented members were Neeshka and Sand. Sand chafed at the coarse ignorance of the mercenaries (who became noticeably coarser and more ignorant whenever Sand was around), and even the diversion afforded by Neeshka's magic lessons had turned into an irritating chore. Even Neeshka had more sense than to try and steal from the mercenaries or caravan, so bored and frustrated by the journey, hemmed in by miles of open countryside with nothing of interest in it, she constantly nagged Sand to teach her more spells. And constantly wasted any attempt he made to teach her through carelessness and inattention.

"My dear Neeshka, while it is _utterly_ delightful watching you waving your hands at random and mouthing gibberish to no effect, perhaps your time, not to mention my own, would be more usefully spent actually casting spells!"

"Oh yeah? Well if you were better at teaching I might _be_ casting spells!"

"Ah, yes, of course. _Clearly_ I am entirely at fault here, and your own lamentable lack of application to your studies is of no consequence at all."

"Gee, at least you admit it."

"What!? I... I admitted nothing! That was sarca... will you come back here!"

"Sorry, can't hear you, gotta go, see ya!"

Finally, after a journey that should have taken three days but lasted more than a week, they struggled to the top of a long, shallow rise, and looked down on the town of Crimmor – and on the heaving bedlam that was a trading hub during a Doldrums year.

The city itself seemed lost in a sea of tents, wagons, carts, people in camps, people trying to manoeuvre their caravans in through the city gates, people shouting, people coming to blows. There were horses, bales of hay and fodder everywhere... and oxen. Hundreds, thousands of oxen. Oxen in pens, oxen pulling wagons, teams of oxen pulling wagons as large as ships, oxen bellowing, oxen roaming loose and unattended, oxen eating, oxen drinking; and all of them shitting and pissing everywhere. The confusion, the noise and the stink were indescribable.

Oredar didn't need to call a halt. The entire caravan simply stopped, stunned, unable at first to comprehend what they were looking at. For what seemed like an age they stared helplessly at the chaos.

"Surely you don't intend descending into that... that pit of torment!" Sand was white as a sheet, and even at this distance he had clapped a cloth over his face. Oredar almost looked as if he was going to faint.

"We have to," he groaned. "Half our goods are coming from Murann and Esmelteran! We're to collect them from the secure warehouse in the city."

"Huh. Seems to me we'll be lucky to get to the gates, never mind into the city." Khelgar was scowling at the scene below as if it had personally affronted him. "And no chance of reaching a tavern, that's for sure."

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be lots of makeshift taverns outside the city!" Grobnar beamed cheerfully at the sprawling chaos surrounding Crimmor. "Why, it quite reminds me of the siege of Saradush. I must have sung in twenty taverns that month without going anywhere near the city! Well, obviously, what with it being a siege, with giants and siege engines and catapults hurling fire and all. Oh my, yes!"

"I trust this won't end the same way," Sand commented dryly. "I hear the entire city was destroyed."

"Do you know, I do believe you're right." A shadow crossed Grobnar's face, but disappeared almost immediately. "But I hardly think this entire city will be destroyed. Why, that would need something really spectacular, like all the oxen stampeding! They're such gentle, docile things, why I can hardly think what might panic them all at once. Except a number of strategically placed blastglobes, I suppose. Or an enraged dragon. I wonder how one would go about enraging a dragon..." He pulled out his notebook, and started scribbling away cheerfully.

Sand rolled his eyes. "Yes, well charming as is the idea of destroying an entire city with a dragon inspired stampede of oxen, does anyone have any _useful_ suggestions as to what we do next? I feel it only fair to warn you that I am _not_ descending any closer to that... that bellowing cesspool! While I am sure our dear Druidess will be right at home being so close to nature and it's by-products, I intend to keep a healthy distance."

"There is nothing natural about such... such..." Elanee was completely lost for words, and looked distinctly green.

"Perhaps it would be better" Casavir suggested "if we were to circle the city, head North, and accept the loss in profits."

To Danno's surprise there was a general muttering of agreement from the mercenaries. "Looks like cut-throat territory down there," said one. "Wouldn't even see them coming."

Oredar opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then rallied. "No, we _must_ collect those items! They're being sent North by some of the richest, most influential families of Amn, that's why I've hired you all at such cost. The contract is with the Council itself! If we default... we _must_ collect the goods!"

"You don't even know they'll be at the warehouse." The mercenary who spoke waved a hand toward the half encampment, half traffic jam that surrounded Crimmor. "They may be stuck somewhere in that." Oredar groaned and put his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in despair.

Danno leant over to Oredar. "Maybe we can take the caravan around the city _and_ collect the rest of the goods."

"What?" Oredar looked at him with panicky hope. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how big are these things? We're not going to be carrying chests or wardrobes on these carts, are we?"

"Um, no. We'll put the rest of the items in the strong-box. It's as near impregnable as makes no difference."

"Huh, you're telling me. Um, not that I've tried to break into it of course! Heh-heh. But those look like pretty good locks to me!" Neeshka scowled irritably, and muttered "If _someone_ hadn't lost my good tools in some underground ruins, though..."

Danno talked over her hurriedly. "_Anyway_, if you and maybe two others go into the city on foot, then you'll be able to get to the warehouse much faster than trying to take in several carts. Even if the items haven't got to the warehouse yet, you can wait in the city while the rest of us circle round. You send word to us by runner when you've got them, and a few of us come in on foot to provide escort and help carry, while the rest guard the carts. Well?"

So it was agreed. Oredar and two of the mercenaries set off down to the city while the rest of the caravan tried to pick out a way around the city to the Trade Way heading North. It was easier than they'd expected, as a lot of others seemed to have had the same idea. Rutted tracks picked out the easiest routes across the terrain, and they reached the Trade Way late the next day.

Even at some distance from the city there was quite an collection of traders, either heading South and waiting patiently to get into the city, or waiting for others to get through and join them before heading North. There was almost a festival atmosphere in this little satellite encampment, mostly because everyone could look at the chaos around the city and congratulate themselves on not being part of it. So Oredar's caravan settled in, made their introductions, shared a few flasks of booze, and settled down to wait.

---

"Please, won't anyone help me? I can pay! I... I'll be able to pay, I promise! Please!"

Danno groaned and stuck his head out into the dawn light. The air was cool, the pale, cloudless sky promising a hot and rainless day. _At least it didn't rain last night._ He scowled blearily at the torn and chopped up grass in the encampment. _This'll be a bog in a few days. What in the hells is all that shouting?_ Slowly coming to his senses he looked around. Nobody was running around, there were no cries of alarm, no signs of an attack. Just a man's voice whining and... pleading? Finally the words began to filter through.

"Oh please, good Sir, have some compassion. My poor wife and daughter! How could you... Don't! Don't turn away, I beg you!"

Danno reached back under the tarpaulin and shook Neeshka's shoulder.

"Mph! Go'way. Lemee 'lone."

"Come on Neeshka, wake up. Something's happening."

Her head popped out from under her pillow. "Attack?!"

"I don't think so. It sounds like someone's in trouble."

"Rrgh!" She dragged the pillow back over her head. "Don' care!"

Danno swore irritably and scrambled out from under the tarpaulin, shaking Neeshka's hand off his ankle and ignoring her plaintive "Don' go!" He found the source of the disturbance quickly enough – a wiry, ill-dressed man with a livid bruise on his face and a blood-stained cut in his shirt, stumbling through the camp, buttonholing traders and mercenaries and pleading for help, and being variously pushed away or ignored. As Danno approached the man turned away distractedly, then rushed over to where Casavir was scrambling out of a makeshift tent.

"Oh Sir, please, can't _you_ help me?"

"It is my duty to aid those in need. What troubles you?"

"Oh... oh thank the gods! Thank you sir, thank you..." The man became incoherent, clutching at Casavir, who bore it with a look of stoic awkwardness on his face. One of the nearby mercenaries looked up balefully from the armour he was cleaning.

"It's a fool's errand, he'll get you killed to no good. The harm's done, and an army wouldn't undo it."

"No! No, they're alive, they're still alive! They must be!"

Danno put a hand on the man's shoulder, pulled it back as he flinched and cowered. "Easy! Easy now. Just calm down and tell us what happened."

"B-bandits! We... we were coming from Nashkel, we almost got here, they... they attacked us in broad daylight, just charged up, I couldn't stop them I couldn't do anything I couldn't I couldn't..." He broke down sobbing.

Danno turned to the mercenary who'd spoken earlier, pale with anger. "And you turned your back on him?" The mercenary threw down his cleaning rag angrily, and stood up bristling.

"Hells, look at him. That bruise is days old. Days! If those scum didn't kill the women straight off then they're back in the stronghold now, and no-one's getting them out!" He sagged wearily and sat down again. "Listen, the militia tried to clean out that nest of cut-throats last year. They lost ten men just trying to breach the entrance. The next day the bandits threw out all their prisoners – in pieces." Abruptly, shame warring with anger on his face, he leapt to his feet and stormed off, pausing only to shout back "If that moron travelled on his own, without guards and bringing his family, then he only got what he deserves!"

Silence fell, disturbed only by the distraught man's sobs, and the distant song of a skylark. The merchants and mercenaries in the camp went about their chores with their faces averted.

"Right." Danno looked around. Elanee had joined Casavir and, to his evident relief, had relieved him of the weeping figure. Neeshka had come up, yawning, puffy eyed and barefoot, wrapped in a blanket and trying not to tread on anything too organic. "Casavir, could you roust out Khelgar and Sand? Oh, and Grobnar. Tell them we're travelling, and to be ready to fight." Casavir hesitated, then nodded and moved off.

"Fighting?" Neeshka glared at him blearily. "Who are we fighting? _Why_ are we fighting? Do _not_ tell me we're rescuing kittens from ogres or... or something."

"Captives from bandits."

"Hells, that's just as bad! Although... bandits do have some cool stuff sometimes."

"There you go then. It'll make a change from pushing carts, and we might make some coin." Danno smiled at her encouragingly.

"Welll... I dunno..."

"If it's any comfort, I think we'll have to do a sneak attack through a back door."

"Oh alright, I'll go get ready. Hmph! I don't know why I let you talk me into... Urgh! What did I just _step _in..." Neeshka hobbled off, trying to wipe her foot clean on the filthy grass. Danno started to follow her, running through his sparse list of equipment in his mind, wondering if he could buy more from the merchants around them.

"May I speak?" Elanee had left the man sitting huddled against a cart, clutching a bowl of soup. Now that someone had offered to help him, he seemed to have run down like a broken clockwork doll, just sitting and staring vacantly at the food. He had started to shiver slightly.

"What? Sorry, yes of course."

"I heard what that mercenary said. Danno, should we be doing this? No, don't speak, listen. Even if we are strong enough to prevail against the bandits, you heard how they treated their prisoners when they were attacked before. If we should be the deaths of those people... could we live with that?"

Danno looked at her, then swallowed hard. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry. Will you tell him for me? Tell him that we refuse to help him? Tell him that we're going to leave his wife and daughter to lives of rape and slavery, and probably torture and murder the first time they step out of line? Will you tell him all that? And then look Casavir in the eye and let him know what you said?"

Elanee had gone white, with shock or anger. "There are more lives... there are others at stake than those poor women. You are so careful of the lives of strangers, be careful not to forget the lives of those closest to you."

"I've never ordered you or anybody into danger, Elanee. I'm going to do what I can to help this man and his family. If you don't want to help, fine, stay here – if you can live with that. But I can't turn away from this and live with myself."

For a moment he thought that Elanee was going to come up with a retort, but instead she turned away and headed back to her and Casavir's tent. Danno started back to where he'd left his gear, and almost ran into Neeshka. She glared at him.

"That was mean." Then she slipped past him and hurried after Elanee.

"What... Since when was it mean to do the decent thing!?" Neither of them even looked round. Danno swore, and went to get ready.


	17. The Lair

**The Lair**

Danno sighed wearily. "Not much chance of mistaking the place, is there?"

"Well, I must say I'm rather surprised. I wouldn't have expected bandits to be quite so... _flamboyant_."

"Oh, I don't think 'flamboyant' is quite the right word. Oh no, not at all. Surely, Master Sand, you meant... erm... 'Gothic'? 'Baroque'? 'Ostentatious'?..." Grobnar pulled out his notebook and started thumbing through it, muttering "Grandiose... extravagant..."

"'Impregnable' is more like it. Lad, I'm as eager for a fight as the next man, but you can't have a fight through solid stone doorways – not a proper fight."

Danno glanced at Khelgar. "Could Ironfist's hammer do anything to those gates?"

"Course it could! Turn them into a pile of rubble this hammer could. Uh – given time lad, given time."

"Ah. Maybe we should look for another way in?"

Neeshka irritably flicked at Danno's head with her tail. "Gee, ya reckon? Like where? Say, Khelgar, you know mountain strongholds, being a dwarf and all. Where's the back door?"

"Other side of the mountain, lass. Least, that's where it should be."

Danno stared gloomily at the massive stone doors set into the cliff face. _Bloody mercenaries. They tell you how far away this place is, tell you the best route, tell you how to approach unseen, do they tell you it's an old dwarf stronghold? Hah!_ There was no doubt in the mercenaries' minds this was the right place – this particular bandit gang had become so powerful that all the others in the vicinity of Crimmor had either gone out of business, been absorbed, or been slaughtered. The only gang attacking traders and kidnapping people was this gang.

"Might they... might they have made... another way in? Closer? Than... than the other side, I mean?"

Danno sighed. He was really, really regretting allowing Sarin to come along. "Sarin," he had said, "it's going to be hard enough protecting your wife and daughter once we've rescued them," _if we can rescue them,_ "I don't want to have to protect you as well." Sarin had stared at his feet and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I ran away!" Sarin had started weeping, again. "I didn't try and fight, I didn't even wait for Clarie and Juline! I just ran!" Then, almost whispering, "I was so frightened. I... I must try and make it right. I must."

And so he had come with them. _At least he's used to travelling, no whinging about sore feet or being tired._ Casavir, unusually for him, had gradually become rather suspicious of Sarin.

"There is something about him I do not trust. I do not know what it is, but there is a sense of... not of evil, no. But a foulness hangs about him."

"Can you be more specific?"

Casavir had shaken his head. "No. He is no undead. He doesn't have the feel of a dark cleric. And he does not carry himself as a wizard would. There is nothing about him that is out of place, and yet... and yet he feels wrong."

"Casavir, I don't disbelieve you, but... but look at him. Do you really imagine that he could actually be lying to us? He's genuinely distressed and terrified, no-one can act that well. If all you've got is a feeling..." Danno had hesitated there. Truth be told, Casavir's hunches had rarely been far off the mark.

Casavir had glanced over to where Sarin was timidly helping the others prepare. "His story doesn't ring true. If he fled, without fighting, how did he become injured? If these bandits are so near Crimmor, less than a day's march away, then why are his injuries days old?"

This had worried Danno. Just as worrying was the fact that he hadn't even thought of this. Was he becoming careless? A little careful questioning revealed that Sarin had injured himself falling down a scree slope while wandering lost in the foothills north of Crimmor, having run wildly from the Trade Way after the attack. Against Casavir's advice, Danno had decided to accept Sarin at face value – while keeping a careful eye on him.

Now he glanced warily at the man. "Another entrance near by? Maybe. If they wanted a way to sally out and attack from behind anyone besieging the main gate. But that's the way a military commander would think. A bandit wants a way to cut and run, or sit tight, not a way to get into a pitched battle."

He looked back at the massive gates. _On the other hand, Sand is absolutely right. Bandits aren't as flamboyant as this!_ He shut his eyes, and thought for a moment.

"Alright. One massive 'look at me' entrance. Any other, if it even exists, will be very well hidden, maybe hidden with enchantments. We could search for a year and not find it. No-one's mentioned another entrance the other side of the the mountains, which means no-one's found it. We can't storm this entrance.

"Hm. Everyone says these bandits generally attack caravans that are camped for the night. If they send a raiding party out tonight... those gates won't open or close quickly. Sand, do you think you can cast an invisibility spell that would last long enough to get us to the gates and through them?"

Sand gave Danno a pitying look. "Why, certainly. Always assuming, of course, that we can all keep within a few feet of each other as we run full-tilt from here to there. I trust, Knight Captain, that we are _quite_ confident of the enemy's total lack of true-vision spells or enchanted items? Of course, it goes without saying that they are all stone deaf, and won't hear a sound as all seven of us charge over the loose and uneven rocks just outside their gates."

"Yes, thank you. A simple 'no' would have done." Danno turned to Neeshka, who was sniggering. "Neeshka? Can you? After all, your invisibility spells last _much_ longer than Sand's."

Neeshka stopped sniggering, and started looking distinctly shifty. "Yeah, weeell... I've kinda got a few problems with turning other people invisible, y'know? Uh, I mean, I'll get it right but... er... I guess I need a bit more practice..."

"What the dear young lady is trying to tell you, with her usual incisive grasp of the Common tongue, is that the last time I tried to teach her an area effect invisibility spell, she turned absolutely everything in the room _except_ for ourselves..."

"Sand!" Neeshka was glaring at him with murder in her eyes, and scarlet rising in her cheeks.

"...er, pink." Sand shuddered delicately. "Exceedingly... pink."

"Pink, eh?" Danno had joined Neeshka in glaring at Sand. "Get a good look, did you?"

"Barely a glimpse, I assure you, and _quite_ unintentionally."

"Hmm." He gave Sand a look that said 'We will talk about this later.' Neeshka gave him one that said 'No you will not!'

"Anyway, that's _not_ a spell we want to use going into battle." Danno tried to push aside the ghastly image that rose unbidden to his mind.

"Although," said Casavir thoughtfully, "it would certainly give us an advantage in terms of surprise." He looked across at Danno and, his face grave and sober as always, winked. Neeshka turned her back on the lot of them, and sulked.

_Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable._ Out of the corner of his eye, Danno caught a glimpse of Sarin's expression. Frustration. Genuine and growing fear. But was that... a momentary flash of contempt? _Hmm. I wonder... _He looked thoughtfully at Neeshka. _I wonder just how long she can stay invisible. Of course, we still have to get those bloody doors open!_

Danno stared at the massive doors as if he could open them by sheer force of will. _I am so stuck. I have no idea how to get in there and rescue those women. Gods, I feel such a fool, I should join up with Daerred and his travelling idiots – motto, "We rush in without a plan!" Hah! He'd probably get in there by accident, fall down a hole or something. Or just... just... Hey. That might work..._

_---_

"Hello! Hello in there! Can you open the doors, please? We want to do a deal with your boss! Hellooo! Can you hear me? Come on Casavir, you've got a louder voice than me, you shout for a bit."

"I still do not believe this is wise."

"Just do it will you?"

"Oh very well. HELLO! WILL YOU OPEN UP IN THERE... Danno, I protest. This is humiliating!"

"More humiliating than explaining to Grobnar _exactly_ what spell it was that Neeshka cast? That _you_ said would surprise an enemy..."

"Enough! HELLO IN THERE! WE WISH TO PARLEY!"

Sand eased a finger out of one ear, and sidled over to Danno. "Speaking of Neeshka, I still feel it was unwise to send her back to the caravan. Erratic as her arcane talents are at times, she can be most valuable in difficult situations."

"Sand, in a fight there's no-one I'd rather have drawing the enemy's attention away from me – her misfires are certainly showy. But lets face it, she's way too much of a klutz to be a really good mage or fighter, and can you _imagine_ her in a delicate negotiation? No, better to have her safely out of the way."

Sand gave Danno a blank look, then his gaze darted momentarily toward Sarin. "Ah. Yes, perhaps you are right."

_And lets hope that maybe-not-trustworthy Sarin thought nothing of my private goodbye conversation with her._

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud CLUNK from the gates, which started swinging open. There were four bandits there, heavily armed and armoured with a rag-bag collection of mismatched pieces. They looked tough, strong, capable - and terrified. Danno was taken aback. They weren't terrified of him and the others; this was a ground-in terror, one that had left them looking drained and hollow eyed.

"The boss..." the bandit swallowed the quaver in his voice, and tried to compensate with aggression. "Shut your noise, you filth! You want to meet the boss? Fine! But you'd better have something mighty interesting to say."

_Shit. Their leader must be a maniac! I don't think this 'parley' idea's going to work._ "Oh, we will. However, I think we'll keep our weapons, if it's all the same to you."

The bandit blinked, then sneered. "Keep them, leave them, bring another wagon-load, whatever. The boss don't care."

_And that, _Danno thought, _isn't bluster. He really doesn't care. _As they followed the bandits through the stronghold doors, Danno muttered to the others "Keep your eyes open, and be ready for anything."

What he wasn't ready for was what met them inside the entrance.

Luxury. Decoration. Sumptuous, rich, ostentatious opulence.

The floors were _carpeted_! Deep, expensive, vibrantly coloured. The walls were hung with delicately figured tapestries. Everything was lit, not by pitch torches, but by candles, bright clean beeswax candles – in chandeliers! Huge, gilded chandeliers, casting a warm and welcoming light over everything. There were statues of polished marble, exquisitely carved to the point they almost seemed to breath. The very walls and floors, behind the tapestries and beneath the carpets, were polished and gleaming.

There was a hush. A hush that spoke of incredible wealth, and smug, self indulgent power. Their footfalls were silent, swallowed up by the carpets, and by an oppressive air of self-confident condescension. The loudest sound was of the whole party gaping. _No way. No way do bandits set out on raids through these doors. No way do they come back from a raid, covered with sweat and mud and blood! Hells, there must be another entrance somewhere, a new entrance with weaker doors. More heavily guarded though, oh yes. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit! Please, Neeshka, don't steal anything! Please just stay hidden, stay silent, stay unseen! Did she get in? Did she manage to slip in with us? Is she as good as I hope?_

Danno tried desperately not to look around for her, not to give her away. If her invisibility spell hadn't lasted... At night, in shadow and confusing half light, she could creep up on you unseen, creep up close enough to whisper in your ear. Could she remain unseen in this clean and brightly lit place? Danno had thought it would be dark and dingy inside, a rough hewn network of tunnels poorly lit by smoky torches. _Oh gods, she didn't get in, she can't have done. No backup, no ace up our sleeves. Damn!_

One of the bandits opened a large door at the end of the passageway. "In there." He didn't look at them, just stood by the door staring at his feet, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword hilt. Danno glanced back longingly at the stronghold doors, firmly closed now. He had the feeling that he was falling, no longer in control of events.

_Oh, come on! We're just here to bargain a ransom for two captives... aren't we? And even if this bandit chief is too rich or too cruel to listen to reason, Neeshka can sneak off and find them while we talk and... except that was the old plan, but I don't think she's in here, and we're going to have to fight, I can feel it... Stop it! Stop panicking! They're just bandits, we've fought worse and won! Pull yourself together man! Oh, who am I kidding, they're not just bandits. What in the nine hells is going on here?!_

_Only one way to find out, I suppose._

Taking a deep breath Danno threw back his shoulders and marched into the grand chamber beyond.

If the passageway was sumptuous, the chamber was palatial. A cross between a throne room, a banqueting hall and a garden. Light poured down from brilliant crystal lamps, striking golden highlights from the polished wooden floor. Shrubs and even small trees grew in tubs, the trees echoing the ornate marble pillars that rose branching to the vaulted ceiling. The walls were hung with tapestries, banners and paintings, shields and arms. There was a high gallery around much of the chamber, and the floor was an open space for dancing. Around the walls were padded benches, and tables which... were also padded? _Who in the hells has padded tables?_

At the far side was a throne. It seemed jarringly out of place here, a heavy, almost brutal block of unpolished stone. Undecorated, almost unfinished. Lounging on it was a figure. Armoured, thickset, cropped hair just starting to grey, an expression of bullying superiority stamped on the heavy features.

_Torrefin? Lord Torrefin!?_

Almost at the centre of the chamber, Danno hesitated – and the cringing Sarin darted forwards, managing the impressive feat of scurrying and grovelling at the same time, gasping "My Lord..."

_Damn, I hate it when Casavir's right. _Danno hated it even more when Casavir suddenly gripped his shoulder and hissed - "_Vampires!_"

They appeared from everywhere – from doorways around the chamber, from the doorway behind them, clustering the gallery above, vaulting lightly over its rail and casually dropping fifteen feet to the floor. Danno had never seen so many vampires before, there must have been fifty or more. Massive and armoured, lithe and agile, quiet and suave, manic and drooling, all richly dressed, all with gaunt and hungry faces, all with long and taloned hands, all staring fixedly.

Not at Danno and the others, but at Torrefin.

_What? He's in league with vampires? That's insane, he's a merchant king, a Councillor, not some necromancer!_

"How dare you!" Torrefin stood, addressing Sarin, who froze. "How dare you bring these... these..."

"But my Lord, you told me... you ordered me!"

"I ordered you to bring fighters!"

"_Lord Torrefin!_" A thin, famished looking vampire, oddly out of place in faded and tattered robes, its voice a wet, sibilant hiss, tried vainly to attract Torrefin's attention. Torrefin raged on, heedless.

"I ordered you to bring me Heroes!"

"B-but my Lord, only they... no-one else..."

"_Lord Torrefin, it is..._"

"I ordered you to bring me someone to fight these useless, mewling, effete children! Show them what a real fight is, weed out the weaklings." He glared round at the crowds of vampires, who, to Danno's bewilderment, cringed and – and actually tried to hide behind one another.

"Instead, you bring me one – One! - Paladin. And what else? Oh, yes, two midgets, a woman, and a couple of nancy-boy wizards! They couldn't even stand up to the Cowled Wizards, went running to De'Arnise for protection. Come here!"

Sarin crawled forwards, sobbing and whimpering.

"_Lord Torrefin, the human!_"

Torrefin, impatient, leapt forward and seized Sarin, hauled him to his feet.

"P-please, my Lord... please don't! Please don't..."

"Don't what?" Torrefin looked, and sounded, as if he'd picked up a turd. "Don't feed you to them? Ha! Why would I want them polluting themselves with the ditchwater that runs in _your_ veins?"

It was a deceptively slow, almost leisurely blow. A back-handed slap, to chastise a careless servant. A blow that lifted Sarin off his feet, and sent him hurtling through the air, to crash into a fluted pillar. He slid limply to the ground, his neck broken by Torrefin's fist and his skull crushed from the impact with the pillar. Several vampires sighed, almost moaned, in disappointment.

"Oh. Oh my! A Vampire Lord!" Grobnar, unusually, didn't sound amazed or delighted, but distinctly alarmed.

"What!?"

"A Vampire Lord! They're the most powerful kind of vampire there is, you know. Oh my yes, really very... powerful. They look just like normal folk, and they don't even mind daylight. They're incredibly rare. Or perhaps they're incredibly common, it is rather hard to be sure – Eeek!"

Torrefin hadn't even moved. He'd just glanced at them, briefly, but that glance fell like a hammer blow. Danno had felt it before, in the Council chamber, but weaker, much weaker. Then he'd felt like fleeing or attacking. Now it was all he could do not to soil himself and start grovelling. Danno realised that Torrefin really didn't need to bully and throw his weight around in order to intimidate – he just enjoyed doing so.

_This is it, we're going to die here. Even the King of Shadows never sent fifty vampires against us all at once, never mind a vampire lord. Gods, come back Qara, all is forgiven. We could really do with lots of fire spells right now._

Desperately trying to stop his voice trembling, Danno spoke up. "You know, Lord Torrefin, if you're thinking of using us as... as training dummies for your followers, you might want to think again. You could lose more than you counted on." Behind him he could hear Sand muttering softly, casting shield spells, while Casavir and Elanee's voices, murmuring prayers to Tyr and Sylvanus, blended like point and counterpoint of a song. Grobnar had struck up a cheery, inspirational little ditty, the effect only being slightly spoiled by the fact that he'd chosen the non-existent Wendersnaven instrument.

Torrefin, walking back to his throne, turned and regarded Danno with contemptuous amusement. "Hah! One night between the witch De'Arnise's thighs, and you imagine you've grown a pair, do you? Pathetic." He dropped into his throne and watched them from beneath drooping eyelids. Danno heard the others' voices stutter into silence. Grobnar honked a discordant note and started coughing. Khelgar simply sighed, wearily. Danno didn't even think of trying to deny the accusation – he simply held Torrefin's gaze as best he could, and wished for the nine hells to open up and swallow him whole. _I wonder if he spies on her all the time... or just on her bedroom?_

"_Torrefin, you must listen to me!_" The tattered, starveling vampire seemed almost frantic, creeping up to Torrefin's side and plucking at his sleeve with trembling fingers.

Torrefin exploded. With a roar of fury he hurled himself out of his throne and pounced on the vampire. A vicious kick sent it skidding across the floor, vampires scrambling out of the way as Torrefin, bellowing in rage, charged after it. Catching the creature, he hauled it clear of the ground and started slamming it into a wall.

"_**DO NOT!**_" thud "_**TELL!**_" thud "_**ME!**_" thud "_**WHAT! TO! DO!!**_" He dropped it, and stamped, hard. "You come crawling here after your master's defeat, no kin of mine, begging, _**begging**_ for shelter, begging for blood, with your empty promises of knowledge and power, and then you have the gall to tell me what to do!? To _touch_ me?" He stepped back, face purple with utter and uncontrollable rage, eyes bulging, and drew the massive broadsword at his side, swinging it back one-handed for a final blow.

"_shard-bearer..."_

Torrefin froze.

"_the human... recognise... I _saw_ him"_

Torrefin slowly lowered the sword, clutching it in both hands now, turning to stare at Danno. No, at Casavir.

"The paladin?" His voice was hoarse.

_Gods, _thought Danno, _he's scared. He's actually scared!_

"_...the wizard..."_

Silence. Then slowly, incredulously, Torrefin started to laugh.

"The... the wizard? Th... _that_ wizard? That snivelling streak of piss? _That's _the hero that put Black Garius to flight? _That's_ the avenging Celestial who destroyed the King of Shadows? _That's_ the..."

Danno drew the silver blade from beneath his robes, and sent his terror, loathing and hatred flowing into it, making it snarl; a grinding, ringing, _hungry _sound.

"The shard-bearer? I don't see any others around here, do you?"

Torrefin's laughter stopped dead. He turned so pale that Danno could actually believe he was undead. _Although the incredible speed and strength are also slight give-aways._

"So," Danno continued, "you can fight, lose most of your minions, perhaps be destroyed yourself... or you can let us go. Just open those doors, and we walk out of here."

Torrefin was staring at Danno's blade, seemingly mesmerised by the shifting, flowing shards that hung suspended in light. Every other vampire in the great chamber was also staring at it. Almost reluctantly, Torrefin dragged his gaze up to meet Danno's.

"Let... let you go?"

"Yes. You see, while you may be happy to slaughter your servants and... _spawn_, I prefer not to risk my friends. So I'm prepared to walk away and leave you undead and well – if you're prepared to be clever about this."

Behind him, Danno heard Khelgar softly mutter "Well said lad", and Sand commenting "At last, some good sense." _Gods and demons, Khelgar finally backing down from a fight? He _really_ must be worried._

Torrefin stared at Danno, a muscle in his jaw jumping, conflicting expressions flickering across his face. Hope, hatred, fear, disgust. Then he spoke.

"Friends? _Friends_!? You weak fool. _**KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!"**_

Flame exploded all around them, and an instant later sheets of acid rain seemed to pour down from the ceiling. Vampires, hurling themselves forward, found themselves burning and melting, blinded and agonised. Shrieking, fleeing wildly, they spread panic among those who had hung back from Elanee's spells.

Danno summoned the strongest elemental that he could (_Fire! Yes! Thank you, thank you Mystra, Illmater, whoever, thank you!_) and sent it raging out among the vampires. Then he started casting, and casting, everything he had, everything he could think of. Spells to slow, spells to confuse, to break, burn and weaken. The others were doing the same, trying to do as much damage as possible while the fire and acid raged. For a few seconds, a few glorious seconds, Danno thought they might actually survive this.

Then the vampires realised they had only one chance – and charged.

A mob of vampires, throwing themselves through acid and fire, screaming, burning and blistering, striking, clutching, clawing.

Chaos!

Danno sent the shards whirling round him in a barrier, scrambled frantically for shelter behind a dire-boar, could barely see through the flames and lightning and thrashing, struggling bodies. He cast desperately, cast lightning, acid, anything. He saw a vampire's head burst beneath an earth elemental's foot, a skeleton shattering into dust, a heaving mob of vampires clawing and punching, lightning ripping through them as Khelgar smashed his way free, Grobnar hammered into the ground and trampled underfoot.

He heard a scream, saw Elanee dragged across the floor by her hair, saw Casavir leap to her aid, he hurled a shard-storm at her attacker, stared bewildered and dazed at the ceiling as Khelgar stood over him, fighting off attackers and screaming at him to stand up. He struggled to his feet and sent a swarm of missiles hammering into a paladin _Casavir! No, no, vampire_ spun bewildered as fire and acid raged anew as Casavir supported a stumbling Elanee and she summoned a swarm of insects that poured over their enemies...

Then Torrefin attacked.

In all his battles against either the living or the dead, against ogres, vampires, orcs, reavers, even against the King of Shadows himself, Danno had never seen anything like this. Torrefin was _fast!_ He exploded into the heart of the fight, smashed Casavir aside as if he were a doll, slid past Khelgar, left him stumbling, hand and hammer striking at empty air. Torrefin lashed out with his sword at a huge dire-boar, wielding one-handed, the broadsword flicking like a stiletto, the boar collapsing in a ruin of entrails even as it vanished. Danno hurled the shards of his sword at Torrefin's back, and Torrefin never even stumbled.

Then he reached Elanee. The broadsword clattered to the ground, as one arm folded around her, and the other hand seized her head. As if oblivious to the storm that tore at him, as if they were quite alone in the world, his own head dipped, his lips touching her throat, a delicate, nuzzling, almost _loving _touch.

Time slowed. Danno was casting, knew he'd never finish the spell in time. He could see Khelgar trying to fight past a knot of vampires, no hope of reaching Elanee. He saw a swarm, almost a blizzard of feeble, sputtering magic missiles hit Torrefin, not a chance that the vampire lord even noticed them.

Then Torrefin lifted his head, almost as if he were puzzled. His grip loosened and Elanee tore free of him, a livid bruise on her neck, but no blood. Danno's feeble acid spray splashed across Torrefin, not even marking the expensive, enchanted... _twisting _armour.

The vampire lord threw his head back and _SCREAMED._ All fighting ceased. Torrefin clawing helplessly at his breastplate as it writhed, long jagged shards peeling from the edges, driving inwards. Smoke and ichor poured from his gaping mouth as the armour started to glow red-hot under the terrible forces acting on it. He collapsed to the floor, leg bones shattering, pulped flesh oozing from between the armour pieces.

Danno screeched "_Cover get to cover!_" and ran. He almost tripped (_Grobnar, it's Grobnar, pick him up pick him up_), staggered toward a pillar ("No, really, I'm sure I'm perfectly all... is my knee meant to look like that?"), flailed wildly with his sword at the vampire cowering behind the pillar, until it was snatched away by... _something, dire-wolf? doesn't matter, get behind the pillar, hold Grobnar safe..._

Silence.

A vampire drifted toward him, moving as if underwater. Everything seemed dreamlike, floating, quiet. The vampire's mouth was open, gaping. In a state of gentle, fuzzy, unfocused bemusement, Danno noticed that one of its arms appeared to have been torn off. Danno thought he could hear a distant, muffled screaming sound. The vampire? Yes, that seemed to make sense. He waved his sword, slowly, experimentally. The sword moved, seemingly without resistance, through the vampire's throat, and the distant wailing sound stopped. The vampire collapsed, gently.

Slowly, painfully, time and sound came back. His ears were ringing, and he hurt as if he'd been beaten all over. Perhaps he had. Still clutching a stunned and feebly protesting Grobnar, he peered round the pillar. At first, all was smoke and confusion. Tapestries and several shrubs were blazing, two huge chandeliers had come crashing down. The whole chamber looked... different. Strange. _H-hells. Half the gallery. Collapsed. Shit._

There were bodies everywhere. Bits of bodies.

"C-casavir? Sand? Any- anybody?"

"Er... here. I think."

Danno looked down. Oh, of course, Grobnar. Figures moved. Faces... Khelgar, a nasty gash in his scalp, cauterised by the heat of the metal shard that made it. Elanee, pale, panting, cradling a broken arm, but alive. A vampire... oh, shit! The vampire stared at him, as if she couldn't quite work out what she was looking at. Her fine robes were tattered and burnt. She must have been quite near Torrefin... Sidling carefully around the stunned vampire, Danno glanced toward the centre of the devastation, saw Casavir leaning on a pillar, saw Sand stumbling toward the entrance, half carried by Neeshka. Saw... saw a tattered, broken, burnt lump of flesh. Saw it twitch. Heard a faint, bubbling moan.

"Oh... oh gods..." He bent over and vomited violently.

"Oh I say! I mean... don't want to complain or anything..."

"S... sorry Grobnar."

The vampire he'd been skirting looked toward the hideous sound, the hideous sight - and her eyes _gleamed._ She staggered forward, fell, started crawling toward what was left of Torrefin. A clawed hand reached out and grabbed her ankle.

"... mine. Mine!"

The two vampires started fighting, feebly. Danno looked around, saw vampires struggling to reach the shattered, undead, still animate ruin of their lord. Struggling with each other. Suddenly, a passage from one of Tarmas' books, long forgotten, popped into his mind.

'_... yet a vampire may only become a great lord of this breed of undead if it first defeat such a lord, and devour its life-force, and so by great fortune or providence the numbers of this most pestilential curse may never increase..._"

"Lets... lets get out of here, lad. No stomach... for more fighting. Not today."

Khelgar tugged Danno toward the doors. Neeshka (_Gods, she did get in, she did..._) had unlocked them, and was now on her knees, clinging to the door-handle for support. Casavir was already supporting Elanee along the seemingly endless passage to the great doors, while Sand staggered behind them, coughing horribly. Khelgar helped Neeshka to her feet, and they slowly made their way from the Vampire Lord Torrefin's throne room, leaving his spawn to squabble over which of them would succeed him.


	18. Death by Sunlight, Death by Starlight

**Death by Sunlight, Death by Starlight**

Slowly, painfully, they stumbled from death and ruin to sunlight and peace.

The mercenaries, the vampires' slaves and larder, had disappeared. Dead, run away, made off with by celestial concubines - Danno didn't know and didn't care. They were gone, the doors stood open, that was enough.

Once outside, Danno looked around with jittery, unfocused wariness. It was still early afternoon. _If we hurry, we might just get back to Crimmor before dark – or before the vampires can catch us, if they make chase._ He was trembling, and his legs felt as if they might give way at any moment. He wanted to put Grobnar down, but didn't dare – the gnome's leg hung at a horrible angle, the knee looked broken or dislocated, and Danno was terrified of causing him further pain or injury.

"C-Casavir? A... a little help here?"

Elanee had sunk to the ground, and Casavir, bending over her, looked at Danno accusingly. Danno realised, with a sort of dull shock, that Elanee was sobbing. Helplessly, he lifted Grobnar a little, his arms trembling. Casavir looked at Grobnar, and his expression softened.

"Khelgar, might you assist Grobnar?"

Khelgar was sitting with his back against a tree-stump, staring wearily at his hammer. He lifted his head at Casavir's words, grunted vaguely, and slowly struggled to his feet. For a moment he just stood there, leaning heavily on his hammer's shaft, then he stumbled over to Danno. Casavir had sat down beside Elanee, and was holding her, murmuring soft, soothing nothings.

_Drained. We're all drained. So many vampires, so many..._ Even if he hadn't cast all his most powerful spells, Danno could feel that they were way, way beyond him now. Even resting wouldn't cure his bone-deep weariness, or his fuzzed thoughts. _I need restoration, we all do. Odd. Don't remember one getting me._ Khelgar carefully took Grobnar from him, gingerly laying him on the ground. Grobnar whimpered with pain as his damaged leg touched the ground; he was white with shock now, and was shivering violently._ Don't remember getting this lump on my head either._

He fumbled in pockets and pouches, found a healing potion, slowly and painfully knelt beside Grobnar. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he had to put a hand on the ground to stop himself falling. He closed his eyes until it passed, then started to unstopper the potion.

"Set it first." He looked over at... Sand? Gods, was that flat, dreary voice Sand's? "It'll heal crooked, if it isn't set first." Sand was standing nearby, shoulders slumped, barely holding his head up. There was an empty vial of healing potion dangling from his limp fingers, but he looked little better for it – except that his horrible coughing had stopped. He slowly drew a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped a little blood from his lips, didn't even have the energy to look disgusted by it.

Danno hauled himself upright again (W_hy? Crawling would be easier_) and went to Casavir. _Old soldier, experienced campaigner, maybe he knows how._ "Casavir? Sand says we need... need to..." The look Casavir gave him stopped the words in his mouth. It was a look of loss, despair, rage, helplessness. He looked at Danno as if his whole world had been destroyed – and as if Danno was responsible. For a while he just sat holding Elanee, until she mumbled "Help him", then he reluctantly left her and went to Grobnar. As he passed Danno he paused.

"Elanee has used the last of her restorations, the last of her healings, on our child." _What? Child? What does he..._ Casavir's fist was suddenly knotted in Danno's robes, his mouth hissing in his ear. "If it has suffered, if it is _damaged_..."

Danno couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't think, through the shock and guilt.

Casavir, very carefully, let go of him, and moved off to help Grobnar. He stood, helpless.

"I didn't know." His words were no more than a whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

He wanted the world to end. He wanted everything to go away. He wanted... he wanted to be back in Torrefin's lair, dead, killed in the battle, dying of his wounds, being devoured and drained – anything, anything rather than this horror.

He closed his eyes. No use, no use at all. His heart kept beating, his breath stirred in his lungs and throat, his mind kept thinking... _My fault, my fault, my fault._ He opened his eyes, and the world was still there. Casavir, kneeling over Grobnar, telling him what they must do. Grobnar's faint response...

"Oh my. Well, it does sound most... fascinating. Yes, indeed. Really something... something to... Will it hurt... a great deal?"

... Sand looking sick as he held Grobnar's shoulders, Khelgar kneeling down to grip his other leg, grim and a little pale. Elanee... oh, gods, Elanee rising and going over to help. He turned away from them. Couldn't bear to see Casavir's strong, capable hands grip, then wrench. Wanted to blot out the crunch, the shriek...

He stumbled a few steps, an insane urge to run sweeping over him – and nearly walked straight into Neeshka.

_Neeshka!? But... but she went back... no. No, she stayed here, came in with us... didn't she?_

His eyes wanted to look anywhere except at her. His ears wanted to hear anything except her shuddering breaths. He wanted to think about anything except her, remember anything else other than her.

He took a deep breath. _Made_ himself remember her. See her. Hear her. Nothing else, just her. _Hells! To be able to hide like that! Why?! Why does she want to hide from us? From... me? oh. oh gods. Torrefin. She heard him say..._

She was standing with her back to him, her shoulders hunched, her arms wrapped around herself. Her tail hung limp and lifeless, but otherwise she was rigid, every muscle tense. Her breath was harsh and ragged, as if she'd been running – or as if she was fighting not to weep, not to scream.

Danno was spiralling down into nightmare, further and further. No waking up from this, no release. _It's my fault, all my fault. I never meant this, never meant to hurt anyone, not you, not anyone, but never you..._

"Neeshka?"

"Go away."

"Neeshka, please, I..." He reached out a hand toward her, to touch her.

"**I SAID **_**GO AWAY!!**_"

She whirled, fury blazing in her eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks. Whirled, and punched him hard.

He staggered back a step, winded. Watched, puzzled, as her expression changed from fury to shock. As, horrified, she raised her hands to her face. Her knife clattered to the ground.

_Ah._

He took a breath, felt a thin, watery bubbling. Coughed, and his mouth filled with blood. _Disgusting. How do vampires stand it?_ The stab wound was suddenly hurting. He pressed his hand to it, futile attempt to staunch the flow, felt his robes becoming sodden. He coughed again, and again, couldn't help himself. Heard Neeshka shrieking something, felt dizzy. He was on his back, hands holding him, trying to lift his head.

"C'mon lad, drink it!"

He tried, really tried, but a fresh paroxysm of coughing flooded his mouth with blood, sent it spraying over his face and front.

He didn't seem to be able to see anything, couldn't focus, but the sunlight was warm on his face, warm and comforting, and he could hear everything with crystal clarity, hear everybody's voices perfectly, though he couldn't quite make out just what they were saying, as the world turned lazily around him...

And, finally, everything went away.

---

Nothing.

No light.

No sound.

No smell, no breath, no form.

Nothing.

Then, something.

A slow, derisive hand clap. A sardonic twitch of the brow.

"Oh, bravo. Bravo _indeed_. You know, that was really, really pathetic. If you had died fighting Torrefin, battling heroically against impossible odds, trying to defend the world against an evil Vampire Lord, well, that would have been magnificent. But stabbed by a jealous lover? By _accident_? I mean, she didn't even _mean_ it. Not really."

A weary, long suffering sigh.

"Like I said, pathetic."

_What... where am I? Who are you?_

"You aren't anywhere. Right now, your soul is... drifting. By rights, it should be traversing the aetherial planes to the fugue plane. But a death like that... well, it's hard to let go. You have unfinished business. Unless you make up your mind to move on, you'll probably end up as a ghost. Very likely go insane, before long."

_No! I don't... I don't want to be a ghost. Not like the ones in Arvahn, not like that!_

"Well, that's a start. Of course, the fugue plane won't be much better. You don't worship any gods, do you? That makes you Faithless – not a happy future on the fugue plane, not without a god to claim you."

_But I believe in the gods! I believe in Chauntea..._

"Of course you believe in the gods. Everybody believes in the gods! But you don't worship them. Don't blame you, really. Pack of inhuman bastards, in my opinion, even the good ones."

A wry smile.

"Though perhaps I shouldn't say that, seeing as I am one."

_You're a god? Who? What's your name!? Why are you talking to me like this, what's going on!?_

"Easy, easy now. Calm down."

A reassuring smile, a calming confidence.

"I'm... well, I'm the Bhaalspawn."

_N-Nalia's friend?_

"Yes. Mostly. Um. Partly. That's the most important part of me, the defining part of me."

An embarrassed shrug.

"I'm all the others as well. Before Bhaal, the old god of Murder, died in the Godswar, he fathered a horde of children, hundreds, thousands of them. Each with a bit of his essence. As they died, all those bits came together in the survivors. Finally, into me. There's something of them in me, their memories, their personalities, their natures... both good and evil. But it's _my_ choice to be good – as good as a god can be."

A sudden, sly smile.

"Makes creating an avatar hell. Half of me wants to be a man, half wants to be a woman – never mind the confusion over race. Bhaal was really quite... indiscriminate. You think your life's complicated? You should try mine. Which, in a way, is why I'm here."

_What do you mean?_

A frown, serious, warning.

"I'm here to offer you a choice. You can remain drifting, become a ghost. You can move on to the fugue plane, suffer an eternity unclaimed by any god. Or... you can join me."

_You mean... become part of you. A piece. A... a subordinate fragment, like all those other fragments!_

"No. No, not like those others. They were fragments to begin with, bits of Bhaal's essence, not souls. Memories of the people they were part of. You are a person, a soul. You'd remain who you are, remain intact. You would be subordinate, yes."

A faintly sarcastic, faintly patronising smirk.

"Worshippers do tend to be subordinate to their gods, you know. Even after death."

Serious, earnest gravity.

"But you wouldn't simply be some worshipping soul, stuck away in your god's idea of paradise, or hell. You'd be more of a comrade. A companion. It's a big, dangerous universe out there, more deadly than you could imagine. It's a universe that needs warriors, prepared to fight to the last gasp for what's right!"

An awkward shrug.

"For what they believe is right. You're a fighter. Interested?"

_Gods. I... I don't know. I've been fighting for so long. I just want to rest._

"I know. Trust me, I know. And yet... you still went into a bandit's den to save a couple of women..."

_Who didn't exist._

"Who you _thought_ existed! And you did it because you believed it was the right thing to do."

_I was wrong. My friends were hurt. I shouldn't have..._

"Everybody makes mistakes. But your friends followed you willingly, if grudgingly, because they also thought it was the right thing to do. Their mistake as well as yours."

_I was their leader. I was responsible. I can't brush it away, I should have looked after them. I owed them! I... I failed them..._

"Hm. Perhaps you were a better man than I was, then. I never really felt like that about my companions – most of them. There was a job to be done, and they could help me do it. What about it? I could learn from you, you could learn from me. And there'll be others in future."

A suggestive wink.

"Nalia, for one."

_Don't._

"Sorry, you're right. Bad taste, that."

_I think... I think maybe you're right. Perhaps I should..._

"A word of warning. Once you make this choice, there's no going back."

_What do you mean, 'no going back'?_

"No resurrection."

_Oh. Not much chance of that anyway. Elanee was drained, she couldn't resurrect me. And there's no way they could drag me... my body... gods, what a weird thing to say... back to a cleric._

No response.

_...could they?_

A sigh. An uncertain, frustrated gesture.

"They... might. If they're lucky. If they survive."

_What!? What do you mean!?_

---

Darkness. No, not darkness, not _true_ darkness. Night. Starlight, throwing the world into a vague and confusing haze of edges and voids. Panting, stumbling footsteps.

Grobnar and Khelgar appeared first, looming out of the darkness, Grobnar limping painfully on his half-healed leg, supported by the exhausted Khelgar. Behind them, Sand and Neeshka, both moving more easily. Sand kept pausing though, casting anxious looks behind him, waiting. Neeshka looked... dead. Face blank, staring vaguely ahead of her, not seeming to see anything, moving slowly, uncertainly.

Then Casavir appeared.

The biggest, the strongest, the fittest of them all, he was struggling along, bowed down, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Already exhausted by the fight against the vampires, he was pushed to his limits, and beyond, by the burden he was carrying. Heavy, limp. Every few steps Casavir would lose his grip, and the awkward mass would slide and flop, dragging him off balance.

Elanee stayed close beside him, helping him as best she could, pleading with him, ordering him...

"Enough! My love, you can't carry on, not like this! Let Sand and me take him..."

"No. Not you."

"Then Sand and Neeshka! You'll kill yourself if you carry on like this! Cass, love, please be sensible."

Casavir stopped, dropping to one knee. His head was bowed, and his face was tight with weariness and pain. Then he hauled his burden higher on his back, and with a monumental effort he stood. "I can can continue a while longer."

"Listen to her, Paladin!" Sand snapped angrily. "We are moving far too slowly. If you _insist_ on carrying him for so long, then you endanger us all! Do you _really_ think the vampires will be stumbling along like this? Let Neeshka and me carry him, at least for a _little_ while!"

Neeshka started, suddenly, seemed to come to life. Her tail lashed wildly, and her eyes went wide. "I don't wanna."

Sand closed his eyes for a moment, perhaps in exasperation – perhaps in pain. "My dear child..."

"No! I don't wanna! He..." Her hands fluttered, vague, jittery twitches. "He's... cold. And stiff..."

Sand's voice was astonishingly gentle. "Then the quicker we get him to Crimmor, the sooner we can warm him up and get him moving again. Now, shall we get going?"

"I..."

"Oh, by all the gods! _Will_ you stop _whining_, girl, and _help_ me!"

Khelgar had left Grobnar a little further on, and moved back to join them. Staring back past them into the darkness, he stiffened. Then grunted, and lifted his hammer.

"I'm thinking it's a wee bit late for that."

They fell silent, turned. The vampires weren't trying to be stealthy. Their prey was exhausted, unable to run, unable to fight. And the vampires wanted to inflict fear, and suffering, in payment for the damage they'd been done. They approached openly, slowly, grinning ferociously, in their tattered, scorched and bloodstained finery. Casavir allowed his burden to fall to the ground with a soft thump, and took his mace in hand.

Neeshka sighed – and relaxed. Slowly, calmly, almost dreamily, she moved back past the others to confront the vampires.

"Well look who's here." Her voice was soft, menacing, mocking. She half turned her head, spoke quietly to the others. "Y'know, I reckon I can hold them quite a while. I've got a few tricks left, ohhh yes! Just leave me and..." she gulped "... and Danno here. I reckon... I reckon we can mess them up pretty good."

Khelgar moved to join her. "We're not leaving you lass, and that's final! It wouldn't be right! Maybe Loudram ran from a fight, betrayed his people. Maybe. But not me. Never!"

"I.. I'm not sure I _can_ run." Grobnar was standing where Khelgar had left him, but his bow was in his hands, drawn and ready. "You know, it _is_ rather a shame. This would make a splendid song... but I don't suppose anyone will be left to sing it. Oh, unless perhaps one of _you_ fine gentlemen..." A vampire hissed, and spat in disgust. Grobnar looked a little disappointed. "Oh. Oh well, it can't be helped I suppose."

Elanee said nothing. She moved close to Casavir, touched his hand, then stepped away and unslung her spear from her back.

Sand looked longingly in the direction of Crimmor, glanced at the dagger he held, and shook his head sadly. "Ah well." He moved close to Neeshka.

The vampires, irritated that their prey wasn't panicking or pleading, started to spread out and encircle them...

---

_Help them!_

A thoughtful expression.

"I wonder. _Can_ worshippers ask favours of their gods after death? I admit I'm new at this, but I think the idea is to grant prayers to living mortals, to confirm or convert their belief."

No form, no hands to grasp a hilt, not even eyes to see a target. But the sword of Gith responds to heart, and soul, and _will_. The shards blaze in the thin nothingness with the brilliance of infinite suns, their hard, merciless reality an agony, as potent and oppressive as worlds poised to fall...

_I – wasn't – ASKING!_

The Bhaalspawn is perceived more clearly now, a vast and murderous power, with the strength of a deity and the will of thousands. Thousands who fought for power and survival until only the deadliest and most certain was left, absorbing all that drove the others, and remaining master. Against that black storm of wrath, the shards twinkle like distant stars.

"So. On the very edge of eternity, your soul naked and exposed, nothing ahead of you but loss, grief and infinite torment, you seek to save your friends by _commanding_ the one god who offers your soul shelter?

"You dare to _threaten!?_"

A sudden, wicked grin, bright against the storm as Lathander's own dawn.

"Now that is _**EPIC!**_"

---

...and Danno found himself standing in the darkness, seeing everything with utter clarity, watching as the Bhaalspawn hurled itself against the vampires.

Shield, spell, bow and blade, a whirling force of death and destruction. Human, giant, dragon and drow, a multitude of forms, now one, now another, now all together. The vampires fought, and were broken. Fled, and were snatched back into ruin. Screamed, and burned.

But even miracles must have their limits.

Even as many vampires met their end, others threw themselves past the nightmare in the darkness, evaded what they must have seen as a summoning of merciless power, and hurled themselves at the shocked and exhausted creatures that surely had called it.

As if in a dream, Danno sent the shards against the first vampire – and felt the power of the Bhaalspawn sweep through him, snatch up the shards, and send them hurtling wildly from one flayed and torn target to another, and another, and another...

The few remaining vampires broke and fled.

Silence fell.

The sword re-formed.

Danno looked down at himself, a near invisible echo of who he had been, the sword held in his ghostly hand, impossibly _real_, the shards moving restlessly, hanging in their vivid glow.

He looked up, looked at Neeshka, as she stared at him wildly, her mouth hanging open. He wanted so much to say something to her. To say that he was sorry. To ask her to forgive him. To tell her that it would be all right. He had no voice though, nothing more than a whisper of night breeze.

He reached out to her, even as she stepped towards him, her hand out, her face suddenly desperate and needy... but she was so far away, so impossibly far away, worlds and eternity between them, and he was falling even further from her as the Bhaalspawn raised a hand in a gesture of dismissal – or perhaps it was a salute.

And, for a while, there was nothing more.


	19. Awakenings

**Awakenings**

Danno stood on the walls of Crossroads Keep. He was alone now, for the first time in as long as he could remember. Everything had been so hectic lately, so much to do, so many decisions to take, difficulties to overcome. It was relaxing to just stand there, in silence, not thinking about much at all.

Even so, as he stood on the massive stones, still cracked and scorched from the battles of the siege (_must get someone to look into that_), as he stared out into the fog, gazing over the endless waves, he wasn't looking toward their destination, but back the way they had come.

The keep moved on, leaving a churning wake behind it. Leaving other things behind. There was a distant land, somewhere out there in the fog. A land of bright colours, vivid sounds. A land of triumph, joy, grief, love, lust and heartache. He'd left that land far behind, barely remembered it, and yet... and yet he missed it. This long, grey journey was one without a destination. No journey's end, not for him.

There were others in the keep, others travelling with him on this journey, but they crowded the walls to the front, looking out toward their destination. Some with hope, some with certain joy. Others with trepidation or terrible dread. But all looking forward. Only Danno, standing alone, stood gazing toward the land they had left – towards the friends he had left behind.

One figure looked neither forward, nor backward. One figure looked only at Danno.

Ammon.

He would always be there. Grieving for what might have been. Grieving for the mercies he might have shown to others. Grieving for the mercies that might have been shown to him.

There was unfinished business between them, a debt to be paid. A debt that ran both ways. Danno stood staring back the way they had come, because some small part of him remembered...

_His head was bowed, and his face was tight with weariness and pain. Then he hauled his burden higher on his back, and with a monumental effort he stood. "I can can continue a while longer."_

...that maybe, just maybe this journey would be interrupted.

But even so, he knew that there must be a reckoning. One day, he would take this journey again. This journey, or another. A wilder, more desperate, more violent... more hopeful journey. Either way, Ammon would be there, and there would have to be a resolution.

He could hear gulls now, their cries harsh and shrill. For a moment he remembered Qara; but she wasn't making this journey. She'd made her choice, fallen into shadow, and the shadow had been swept away.

The gulls were crying louder now, deeper, softer. Chanting a prayer...

---

He opened his eyes. _Eyes! Oh gods, I never appreciated them before! To see! To hear, to feel, to... to..._

"Uurrgh! Oh dear gods, the _smell_!"

He sat bolt upright, staring wildly about him.

The room he was in _looked_ like a small chapel sick-room. Neat, clean, a little spartan in its furnishings, but comfortable in a rather clinical way. High windows allowed the early morning sun to stream in. A cleric, fussing over the occupant of the other bed, gave Danno a wryly amused glance over his shoulder. Two others were sitting beside him, looking at him speculatively.

It _sounded_ like a chapel sick-room. Soft, murmuring voices just outside the door; somebody walking briskly down a corridor, their shoes slapping on the flagstones; distant chanting of prayers.

It _smelt_, however, like a cesspit. A rank, stinking, weeks rotten pool of piss, dung and (oddly) boiled cabbage.

One of the clerics sitting beside him, a neat little woman (small even for a halfling), with cropped black curls and a mischievous expression, gave her companion a cheerfully smug look. "Yep. He's traumatised. Pay up."

The other, a tall fair-haired wood elf, brushed the crumbling remains of a scroll off his hands and sighed with exaggerated patience.

"Is he ranting about the pain and agony of his death? Is he foaming at the mouth over being torn from a promised afterlife of bliss and joy? Is he swearing eternal vengeance against his killers? No. He's complaining about the smell. Very level headed of him. You lose, you pay."

"No, he _seems_ rational, but really he's traumatised. Before today's out he'll start talking gibberish, I bet you. Double or nothing!"

The elf tried staring at her severely, but was struggling to suppress a smile. "Lydie, you already doubled. You _always_ double. You always _lose_!"

Lydie gave him a long and sultry look. "But losing can be _such_ fun_."_

The elf shook is head, with an expression of fond sadness. "You are a disgrace to the Lady, you know that?"

"Ah, she loves a good loser really, just like you do. I bet you!"

Danno closed his eyes and sank back against his pillows, leaving the two mad clerics to their argument.

_Gambling clerics. A temple of Tymora, then, the Lady of luck. The smell must be Crimmor. We're safe, we're really, really..._

Sudden panic swept through him. _The others!_ He sat bolt upright again. "The others! Where are they!? Are they alright? I've got to see them..."

"Easy, easy, calm down." The elf put his hands on Danno's shoulders, gently pushed him back. "They're fine, they're all fine. A gnome, dwarf, two elves, a human and a tiefling, yes? Yes, they're all here, they're all fine." He glanced over at the third cleric, who was already examining a new patient. "They're sleeping?"

The other man nodded. "I think the druid spotted the sleeping potion in her drink straight away, but she drank it down like a lamb. They're all out until tonight at the earliest."

Danno knocked the elf's hands away angrily, and sat up again. "You drugged them! Why!?"

Lydie pushed the elf aside and hopped up onto Danno's bed, perching herself on the edge, her legs swinging. "They were drained, exhausted. They were damn nearly hysterical." She was suddenly very serious, almost sombre. "Healing and restoration weren't enough, they needed _rest._ No way they could get it, so we helped. And, really, we didn't know you'd come back. Resurrection doesn't always work, and the longer it's left..." She shrugged, sadly. "Losing a friend like that is hard. I know. If you didn't come back, or you came back damaged... We wanted them rested before we told them. They're better off sleeping, really."

_'...came back damaged...' Damaged. Oh **gods**!_ "And... the baby? Elanee's baby?" Danno's voice was barely a whisper.

Lydie looked briefly bewildered, then sad and upset. She caught hold of Danno's fingers, and squeezed them comfortingly. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I don't think..."

"The baby's fine." The cleric by the other bed muttered a quick prayer to cure disease, then ushered his patient out the door. "And if you must go to brothels, go to clean ones!" He shook his head in exasperation, wiping his hands fastidiously. "Fortune may favour the bold, but there's a difference between boldness and stupidity! Oh, yes, the baby's unharmed, she won't lose it, no taint or corruption. Next please! Oh, by the Lady, how _did_ you get _that_ stuck _there_! No, don't try and explain, just come over here and bend over..."

Danno closed his eyes briefly, tried to make himself calm down. "Thank you. Thank you all. I... I'd like to see Neeshka. I want to be there when she wakes up. Please."

Lydie, looking immensely relieved, grinned, all teasing and froth again. "Want to kiss your lady love awake, eh?"

"Er. I suppose. Um... has she got any weapons on her? She might be a bit... upset when she wakes up."

She grinned even wider. "Oooh, a _fiery_ relationship!"

Danno grimaced. "Believe me, you don't know the half of it." _Oh hells. This is going to be so hard._

She hopped back off the bed. "Alatir, we are getting really boring living here. Come on then, Daral will want this bed back anyway." She trotted out of the room, whistling brightly, while Danno stood (a little unsteadily) and followed with the wood elf.

"Thank you for... for bringing me back." _Damn, why do I never know the right thing to say when it matters?_

"You're welcome." The elf looked quite gratified. "You'd be surprised how many people just take it for granted – when it works at all, that is."

"You're Alatir?"

"At your service. And that," Alatir said, watching with an amused and exasperated expression as Lydie hitched up her robe and played an impromptu game of hopscotch down the hallway, "is my lovely and impossible wife Lydie."

"I'm not your wife," she called back, "I'm your chattel. And don't you forget it!"

"Lydie! You are not my chattel!" Alatir gave Danno a rather flustered and nervous glance.

Danno had stopped walking, and stared at Alatir in surprise. Slavery was illegal in Amn, and he was sure no cleric of Tymora would condone it, let alone practice it. Plus, Lydie hardly _acted_ like a slave. But the way Alatir reacted...

"Your chattel?"

Alatir shook his head in nervous embarrassment, while Lydie stood demurely by a door and looked villainously innocent. "It's a long story. But she is _not_ my chattel!" Then, as she opened her mouth, he hurriedly continued, "Ah! Your friend's in here. Come on in, no need to be quiet, I assure you she'd sleep through an earthquake!"

It was another small room, just two beds, and one was unoccupied. Neeshka lay on the other, sleeping. Her battered and scuffed armour was missing, and she was just wearing a nightgown. She looked, not peaceful, but inert. Her face was slack, and she lay utterly limp. Even asleep she had always seemed on the point of movement, had always had a certain tension about her. Now, it was as if something vital had gone missing.

There was a dwarf there as well, wearing worn and stained travelling clothes. He was resting his hand lightly on her head, and seemed to be meditating. Alatir and Lydie both hesitated. Danno hurried forward. "Who are you? What are you doing to...?"

Lydie, her face perfectly serious, caught at his sleeve. "It's alright, Corran's a healer. Corran? What is it?"

The dwarf glanced up, shrugged. "I'm not certain. Daral asked me to look at her. This," nodding at Danno, "is the dead one?"

"Corran!" Alatir sounded shocked at the lack of tact, but Danno couldn't have cared less. He looked anxiously at Neeshka. She seemed uninjured, there was no blood, she didn't look feverish. If she had been hurt in the fight with the vampires, she looked as if she'd been fully healed.

"But you must have healed her already," he protested. "Why would you look at her again?"

For a moment nobody answered, then Alatir said quietly, "Corran treats more difficult injuries. Those to the heart. To the... mind..."

"I treat madness." Corran spoke bluntly, but he looked faintly puzzled. He moved away from Neeshka, tugging absent mindedly on his ear. "Daral said all of them were overexcited, but he thought she was deluded. From what he said..." He shook his head in frustration, and shrugged again. "I can't feel anything though, not really. Current distress and old scars, yes; guilt, betrayal, fear, loneliness... the usual. No madness."

He glanced shrewdly at Danno. "Maybe you can shed some light on this. Is your friend highly excitable? Credulous? Given to wild fancies?"

Danno was bewildered – and worried. "N-no. No, not at all. I mean, she's excitable, yes, and not very sensible, but she... she's very down-to-earth. Not fanciful." He sank onto a stool by the bed, and took Neeshka's hand.

_Oh, please be alright Neeshka, please! Please don't be hurt, not by me, I'm not worth it. Please just wake up and be alright. Be angry, kill me again, I don't care, but be alright!_

He closed his eyes against the sting of tears, lowered his head, pressed her limp hand against his cheek. For a long time he just sat there feeling drained and hopeless. The others also stayed quiet, though Lydie moved to stand close beside him.

Eventually he pulled himself together, sat up straight. "What was she saying? If I knew, perhaps I could tell you more."

Corran hesitated briefly, studying Danno intently. Then he grunted, as if satisfied by what he saw.

"According to Daral, she insisted that you rescued them all from vampires. Fought off an army of them single-handed, with just a broken sword. _After_ you were dead. Dead and cold." He shook his head regretfully. "I've seen some strange things, but it does sound as if... are you alright?"

Danno had dropped his head back to his hands, to Neeshka's hand. _Thank you, thank you, thank you!_ For a few moments he simply shook, soundlessly. Then, overcome with relief, he sat up, threw back his head and laughed. He _bellowed_ with laughter, helpless, hysterical laughter. He would have fallen off the stool if not for Lydie grabbing him, and his grip on Neeshka's hand. He laughed and laughed and laughed! Alatir had darted forward, and Danno leant against the elf, still laughing.

_Oh gods, I've got to stop, got to... to pull myself... together..._

He couldn't stop. He could feel Alatir's tension, and when he freed one hand to wipe his streaming eyes, he could see Lydie looking astonished, and Corran looking professionally concerned.

Slowly, painfully, he fought to get control of himself.

"S-sorry! Sorry. Just... just give me... just a moment..." He pulled himself upright, wiped his eyes again, took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm alright, it's just... she's not mad, really, she isn't. That was what happened – pretty much."

He looked at their expressions. Lydie, half smiling, not sure whether to be concerned or to make a joke out of it. Alatir, who had moved to stand protectively beside her, calm and steady, braced for trouble if it came. Corran, compassionate, reassuring – analytical.

"That does seem a remarkable claim," Corran suggested. "Do you mean that you were a zombie? I must say I've never heard..."

"No." Danno shook his head. _Damn. Now I've got to convince them _I'm _not insane._ "I was a... a ghost, I suppose. And it was a god who did most of it, I just helped out." _Oh yes, a _fine _job. _That'll_ show them how sane I am. Ugh, how do I convince them..._

"Oh, look, did my friends have a glowing, shattered sword with them?"

"Nope. Not that I saw. Not unless it was very, _very_ shattered!" Lydie seemed to have decided this was funny. For now.

_Uh oh. Would I know if it wasn't near by? Oh hells! What if it's still out there!?_

Alatir, though, turned to a locker and pulled out a long bundle, tightly wrapped in a bloodstained cloak. He glanced at Corran (who nodded cautiously), then handed it to Danno, and inclined his head toward Neeshka. "She brought this in, she seemed very protective of it. Would this be it? It doesn't seem very shattered to... oh!"

"Oooh! Pretty! You don't see a sword like _that_ every day."

Danno had hastily pulled back the cloth. Now he unwrapped it carefully, and held it out for them to see. Corran leaned forward, suddenly looking eager and excited, his eyes darting from the shattered blade, the shards held together by glowing light, to Danno's face, and back again. The shards shifted, trembled, both hard and fluid.

"It's as if... as if it _responds_ to you." Corran was rapt, his fingers reaching involuntarily toward the blade. He hesitated. "May I?"

"Um. Yes, alright." It wasn't that Danno was bothered about anyone touching the sword, but the way Corran asked, it sounded as if he was asking if he could touch Danno – in a very personal and intimate way. _Oh come on! It's just a sword. What do I care how _he_ feels about touching it?_

Still, the shards did seem to be rather more active, almost agitated, as Corran ran his fingers lightly down one side of the blade.

"Astonishing," Corran breathed. "It really is infused with your will, your _spirit_! I've never seen the like, never heard of any such weapon. Never!"

"Even so, an army of vampires?" Alatir didn't sound disbelieving so much as puzzled.

Lydie poked him. "He said, a god did most of it! Which one?" She was as eager and excited about this as Corran had been about the blade.

"He said he was the Bhaalspawn, but I..." He stopped. Alatir's friendly manner had abruptly disappeared. He was staring at Danno with a distinctly cold expression.

"You honour the god of slaughter?"

Danno grimaced. "Hardly. He saved my friends because..." He hesitated. _Gods, this is embarrassing!_ "Well... because I threatened him."

For a while, nobody said anything.

Corran was staring at Danno with furious intensity, as if he was trying to see through Danno's head to read the truth of his words. _And I suppose he is._ Lydie had an expression of delighted amazement on her face. And Alatir – Alatir stood completely motionless, absolutely expressionless.

It was Lydie who broke the silence.

"Ha! I told you! Traumatised and talking gibberish, and it isn't even noon!" She twirled around, then leaned nonchalantly against a wall, smirked at Alatir, and held out her hand. "I win, pay up!"

Alatir looked at Corran, who spread his hands helplessly. "He believes it. That's all I can say."

Alatir sighed, fished out a purse, and began counting coins into Lydie's hand.

---

Once Corran had declared Neeshka to be "as sane as any other adventurer, but send me word if she's rambling when she wakes up", the clerics moved her into a dormitory where the others were sleeping off the effects of the potions they'd been given. Corran's verdict on Danno was "probably not dangerous", so they didn't try and take the blade from him.

For the rest of the day, Danno sat by Neeshka's bed, waiting for her to wake up. Longing for her to wake up. Dreading her waking up.

_What do I say to her? What's she going to say to me?! Did she really believe Torrefin? Was she just angry because I led them all into danger for no reason? No, no she might have shouted at me a bit for that, sulked for a few days, but she wouldn't have hidden herself like that. Wouldn't have struck out like that. Even if she didn't really mean it, that was a killing blow._

_She believed him. She knows what I did. I betrayed her. Just one more person who turned on her, but it's different this time. She thought I was on her side, she thought she could trust me. She thought I loved her. I do love her! Neeshka, I do love you, I can't imagine life without you..._

_Except... I can. I can imagine life without you. I can imagine never seeing your face again, never seeing your smile, your spark. Never seeing you laughing, teasing, flirting. I can imagine... Oh gods. I can imagine never seeing you sulking, sneering. Turning your back on someone who needs help. I can imagine never having to hear you whinging when I do help... **NO! **I don't want to think like that! I **WON'T!**_

_Wake up Neeshka. Just wake up so we can get this over with, so I don't have to sit here worrying and waiting... I saw you. You were going to die. You were going to fight the vampires alone, try and buy the others some time. No, not alone. With me. I know you love me... that is love, isn't it? If you don't want to live without me? Neeshka, I love you. I would have fought a god for you. I came back for you._

_We do love each other. We must. We'll sort this out, whatever I did, however stupid, however selfish and weak I was. Whatever... whatever you did. We'll make it right._

_I've got to say all this. When she wakes up, I've got to tell her... what? How do I say it all? Will she listen? What's she going to say to me?_

"Danno?"

He started, almost leapt to his feet, his heart hammering. Alatir took a step back, embarrassed, apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Danno, glanced hastily at Neeshka, let go of her hand. She was looking less lifeless, the sleeping potion starting to wear off, but she hadn't reacted. "It's alright. Sorry, I was miles away. What is it?"

Alatir sat down, and smiled a little sheepishly. "I wanted to apologise for earlier."

"Er... sorry, I don't understand."

"When you said you were aided by the Bhaalspawn, I was rather unfriendly. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that."

Danno knew he ought to be annoyed at the interruption, but honestly, it was a relief. He turned to Alatir, away from Neeshka. _She won't miss me._ He considered the elf, who was fidgeting awkwardly.

"You mean you shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion that I was sane and had been dealing with the Bhaalspawn? Hmm. I'm not sure I'm so thrilled at the alternative. 'Mad but harmless' doesn't sound quite so impressive as 'Evil force to be reckoned with'."

Alatir laughed a little weakly, but relaxed. "If it's any comfort, I don't think you're mad. Or evil," he added hastily. "If I'd been paying any attention to what your friends were saying when they got here... Well, invading a lair of vampires to rescue their captives is an act any follower of the Lady would be proud of. It says a lot about who you are, and how deserving you are of help."

"Ah. Thanks. Um. I didn't actually know they were vampires. I thought they were just bandits. And I was hoping to free their captives – who turned out not to exist – by buying them."

Alatir gave Danno a sidelong glance. "You know, I don't know if such scrupulous honesty is simply down to stupidity, or is courageous risk-taking of the highest order."

Danno thought about where he was. "Risk-taking. _Definitely_ risk-taking."

"Well said. We'll make a believer of you yet!" Alatir winked. Danno grimaced.

"I doubt it. Alatir, can I ask you something? Something personal?"

Alatir looked a little wary, shifted awkwardly in his seat, but nodded. "I suppose so."

"What did Lydie mean about being your chattel?"

Alatir shook his head, embarrassed. "It really isn't anything. It's just that we never actually had a marriage ceremony – not a traditional one, at any rate. If you must know... Lydie gambled herself to me."

"What!?" Danno stared at him, a little wildly. "You... you _won_ her? In a _game_?"

"No! Well, yes, but it wasn't anything sordid, really. It was just... Lydie being Lydie.

"I had joined a group of adventurers, helping them to deal with a spate of attacks by trolls. They'd found the trolls' lair, and were going to drive them out. Lydie was their lockpick and sneak; good at traps, too. We hit it off, I suppose you'd say. We'd play games of chance, bet on... well, anything." Alatir smiled, his expression distant. "Everything. How quickly she could pick a lock. How long a butterfly would sit on a flower. How many trolls were in the next room."

He shrugged, spread his hands.

"I hit a winning streak. Lydie didn't have the coin to pay, so she called 'double or nothing'. She lost. She doubled. And again." He looked at Danno's expression, looked away. "Perhaps I should have called off the game. But, I am a cleric of Tymora, after all. How would it have looked? And I was sure she'd win sooner or later. Then the game would be over, with no harm done."

"But... she didn't win?" Danno hazarded.

"No. No, she didn't win. By the time we'd got halfway through the trolls' lair she'd bet everything she owned, everything she ever would own. Then she bet herself, for a night. Oh, she grinned when she made that bet. And when she lost..." He stopped talking. Then looked Danno straight in the eye.

"When she lost, she looked so _happy_. You see, she was playing a game all right – one that she'd win by losing." He smiled. "How could I disappoint her? Such a true believer in the Lady? And I confess, I was already besotted by her. So we kept playing. She kept losing. She kept doubling. Then she bet herself for life, and lost. She didn't double.

"So, yes, technically I own her, except not a court in Amn would say so. Nor would I. But, she loves to tease me with it. Ah, and here is my delight and joy."

Lydie dragged a chair over by Alatir, clambered up into it, and sat rubbing her hand as if it was sore. "Do you know," she said brightly, "I didn't think it was _possible_ to get a foot stuck in a spike trap without setting it off. That girl must have some really bad luck following her around – she managed to get all the way here, then just as I'm about to disarm it she sneezes." She giggled. "Daral didn't know which of us to heal first."

"Are you alright?" Alatir's tone was light and breezy, but Danno noticed how pale he'd gone.

"I'm fine. Better than her – _she_ won't be stamping on any funny looking flagstones in a hurry. She's brave though. And really good at hopping. So, were you saying nice things about me?" She gave Alatir a sly and mocking glance.

"I was just telling Danno here how we..."

"How you won me."

"No, how..."

"You won me!" With an air of triumphant finality.

Alatir gave up the unequal struggle. "Yes. How I won you. And how you won my heart."

Lydie did something Danno wouldn't have thought possible. She blushed. "Oh, Alatir! How sweet!" She jumped off her chair, scrambled up into his lap, threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. "Really corny, but sweet."

Danno shifted uncomfortably. He knew she was a grown woman, but seeing this bright and cheery little figure perched in Alatir's lap... _Stop it. She's no child, there's nothing dirty about this._

"So," Danno croaked. He cleared his throat, while Alatir gave him a puzzled look, and Lydie gave him an all too knowing one. He tried again.

"So, Lydie, you do locks and traps? That's unusual for a cleric."

She sniffed haughtily. "Cleric? I'm no cleric! Hah! Catch me praying all the time? Taking chances because I'm _supposed_ to? Not likely. _**I**_ take chances because it's fun!"

"Sorry, I just assumed..."

Alatir took pity on Danno's confusion. "Lydie's a lay sister. In name at any rate. Really she's an adventurer, but now she's expecting we thought it would be safer..."

"Expecting!?" Danno looked incredulously from one to the other. "How?"

"Oh, didn't your parents tell you about this?" Lydie looked terribly concerned. "Well you see, when a mummy and a daddy love each other _very_ much, they..."

"No! No, I meant..."

"Ohhh! Oh, I see." Lydie nodded sagely. Then leant forward and said in a loud, carrying whisper, "A lot of gentle patience, and a little scented oil. Oh, and..." she waggled her little finger suggestively, then sat back, leaning comfortably against Alatir. "I'm sure I've saved some elven girl from a _terrible_ disappointment."

"I _**mean**_," said Danno hurriedly (while Alatir blushed furiously, and stuffed his sleeve in his mouth to muffle his laughter), "I've never heard of an elf and a halfling having children. I didn't know it was possible!"

Lydie shrugged, and smiled happily. "Neither did I. I guess we're just lucky."

"Oh. Oh, well, um, congratulations. I hope everything comes out all right... er, sorry, I mean... Oh gods. Sorry."

Alatir stopped laughing. Both he and Lydie became quite sober.

"Yes," Alatir said softly, stroking Lydie's cheek tenderly, "we hope that 'everything comes out all right' as well. Still," he brightened up determinedly, "we have some of the finest healers in Amn in this temple, and we've aided many mages and clerics of note. And we trust in the Lady. I'm sure Luck will be on our side."

He glanced past Danno. "Ah, I see _your_ Lady is starting to wake up." He looked at the angle of the sunlight coming through the dormitory windows. "Rather early, I must speak to Daral about his dosages. We'll leave you two alone."

He nudged Lydie off his lap, and stood.

"Ali," Danno heard Lydie saying as they left, "I've had an idea about the smell."

"Please, Lydie, no. I don't know how you persuaded Jarris that boiling three hundredweight of spoiled cabbage would help matters, but it _hasn't_!"

"But this is a _good_ idea..."

Danno tuned out the sound of their voices, turning anxiously to Neeshka. She wasn't awake, but she looked naturally asleep. Danno gently took her hand. It twitched, and she suddenly opened her eyes.

This was the moment. The moment to say it all, to make it all better. The moment to open his heart to her, to beg her forgiveness. To forgive her.

Everything fled from Danno's mind. Everything he'd been going to say, every heartfelt protestation of love, every grovelling apology, every reassurance and tender word. Every bitter accusation and angry recrimination that lurked unacknowledged in the dark corners. Everything.

He simply sat, holding her hand, unable to speak. Staring helplessly into her eyes.

Neeshka stared back.

Then, without warning, without a word... she threw herself forward, and flung her arms around him. She held him so fiercely, so desperately. She trembled, as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

_It'll be alright. We'll be alright. We really will. Oh gods. Oh, Neeshka. I'll never leave you again, I swear it._

_I swear it._


	20. Tears and Feathers

**Tears and Feathers**

Danno swore softly, as he searched the chest. "Where is it? Where is the damned thing?" He let the lid drop, and looked around his quarters. _Did I leave it in the basement? The library?_ He couldn't search the whole keep for it.

"Nasher will have my head if I've lost it. Where _is_ it?"

He hurried out of his quarters, and started up the steep cobbled street to the palace. The streets were deserted, except for a giggling imp that chased a cat into an alleyway. The street wound up and up the hill, longer than he remembered. And when he reached the top, he couldn't find the palace.

"Where is it?" he asked the empty courtyard helplessly.

Looking round wildly, he saw the palace towers streets away. _But how did it get there? That isn't the right way_. Still, there was nothing for it. He started hurrying through the Athkatla marketplace, dodging round stalls, trying to keep the palace towers in sight. But it was hard, she was moving so quickly. He saw the tip of her tail whisk into an alleyway, and ran, trying to keep up.

The alley stank of demons and blood. The imp, which had caught the cat and was coupling eagerly with it, gazed severely at him and intoned "Surely it is only animals that can die with dignity."

The cat said nothing, but smiled Elanee's smug little smile. Snow fell, and a bitter wind howled across the mere, as candles flickered and danced.

---

Candles were crowded on every available surface. They flickered and danced in the cold breeze from the open window, and gave the shabby little inn room a soft, almost ethereal glow. A confused and fretful dream slipped from Danno's memory. _Where is she?_ She wasn't in bed with him, and the night air chilled him.

Then something, barely even a sound, caught his attention. In the quiet, shadowless, softly lit room, she had almost evaded his notice. If she had noticed him waking, he thought that he'd never have seen her.

Silently, Neeshka was packing.

Danno watched her for a few moments. Her movements were quick and staccato, and yet had an economy and ease which, to Danno, seemed utterly graceful. _She meant to just disappear_, he thought. _To leave me_. He took a breath.

"I'd come with you. You must know that. If you asked me. If you... if you wanted me." She froze, for an instant. Then carried on packing, grabbing items and shoving them in her pack with a jittery energy. She said nothing.

"Where will you go?" No reply. "Athkatla?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. The Shadow Thieves might kinda cramp my style, y'know?"

_Waterdeep_, he thought. _Maybe even Calimport. Somewhere she can vanish, in the slums and alleyways, and never be found_. He sat up in bed, and watched her. He started weeping.

"You..." He swallowed, tried to steady his voice. "You know it means nothing to me. The keep, Neverwinter. Even the others. If you don't want to go back there, to keep travelling with the rest... Just say. We can just leave, just us two..."

He knew he was pleading, but he didn't care. No pride left, no anger or self respect. Not about this. And he knew it was useless, but he pleaded anyway.

"It would set them in a state, wouldn't it?" He tried to keep his voice light and bantering. "Ha! Us just vanishing. Think they'd imagine some grand, evil conspiracy?" He sounded pathetic, even to himself. Especially to himself.

"Stop it. Just stop it."

And what stopped him dead was the weariness in her voice. She should have been angry, or resentful. Sharp. That would have been Neeshka. Not weary. But, of course, all the anger and disagreements had been aired already, as they trekked North, city by city, village by village. There was nothing more to say, and they were both tired of saying it.

He watched, wordlessly, as she secured her pack and slipped out the door.

* * *

At first, it had all seemed so easy.

For a while, they had said nothing, just held each other. That was enough for Danno. _I don't want to talk. It'll just go wrong. This is right, just this._ Then Neeshka had broken their silence, a choked little whisper, as they clung to each other.

"I _saw_ you. You kept me safe, just like you promised. I knew you'd come back... I _knew_ it."

She suddenly caught him by the shoulders, leaned back, looking at him anxiously.

"It _was_ you wasn't it? I _told_ them, but they wouldn't believe me!"

Danno nodded. "Yes." He smiled wryly. "I told them too, and they don't believe me either. They probably think I'm mad." He pulled her close again. _Oh Sune and Chauntea, it feels like _she_ died, and I've got her back again._ He laughed quietly, with joy and relief. "I reckon we mad folk will have to stick together, eh?"

Her shoulders shook, and she made an odd hiccuping sound, half laugh and half sob. A gulp, and then, "Yeah, I guess."

She pulled back a little, and started wiping her eyes angrily, smiling through her tears.

"Rrgh, look at me! Hells, one little fight with vampires, and I go all to pieces! Ugh, this is _so_ disgusting."

Danno leant forward and gently wiped her face. "Yes, it's disgusting all right." He kissed her cheek, smiled happily. "But you're perfect anyway. And that fight with the vampires? Hells, you saved the lot of us. That was you, wasn't it? That ripped Torrefin apart? That was fantastic, really!"

Neeshka looked immensely relieved. "Really? I mean, yeah, sure! Y'know, I figured it was the right thing to do. Like you said, you were all done for, and I reckoned that was the only way to stop him. Guess I was right, huh?" She was preening now, inordinately pleased with herself... and giving Danno a sidelong, faintly wary glance.

"Absolutely. Nothing else would have worked. And you got us out of there afterwards too!" _And so history is rewritten. Instead of being the Misfire Queen who damn nearly killed _all _of us, she's the heroine of the hour. And what in the nine hells is Sand going to say about that?_

Neeshka was excited now, shifting restlessly on the bed, almost bouncing as she chattered. "And did ya see how I got the vampires fighting each other?"

"Er... you mean... when we were leaving?"

"No! Before that! Oh gee, don't say you missed it. It was great!"

Danno shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't... I did get knocked down at one point. Perhaps it was then."

"Uh. Yeah, maybe. I kinda didn't notice... it was pretty wild in there, and _not_ in a good way – if you get my meaning." She stopped jittering, and knotted one hand in the hem of her nightgown. Then paused, and looked at it in bemusement. "Hey, where're my clothes? Oh, there they are. Say, do you reckon the others are gonna wake up soon?"

He blinked at the sudden change of topic. "I don't think so. Not quite yet anyway."

"Oh, right. Sheesh, the way they're sleeping, you'd think they'd been drugged or something." She sniggered, then looked at him expectantly. And waited.

"Neeshka? What is it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, gee, maybe you could watch the door?"

She waited, staring at him impatiently until he went and stood blocking the door, then hastily dragged off the nightgown and started dressing. "You know, at the shrine in Neverwinter it was all 'here's your potion, go do something dangerous'. Real quick and neat. They _never_ undressed me while I was asleep. Urgh, that's kinda dirty." She pulled her shirt on, then just... stopped. She stood, completely still, staring vaguely at her feet. Then she lifted her head, and looked at him with a tense, unhappy expression.

_Oh. Oh hells. This is it..._

"Danno... um... what..." She paused, took a breath. "Who was the dragon?"

"W-what?"

"I mean, yeah, I saw you, and you were using your sword and all, but... I kinda saw a dragon too. And other things." She summoned up a weak smile. "You must have got _really_ good at summoning...?"

"Oh, that." Danno wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. "That's the other reason they think I'm a bit, well, a bit... traumatised. 'If you get my meaning', to coin a phrase." He smiled hopefully at her, then sighed as she just frowned, puzzled. He went back and sat on her bed, and she joined him.

"Do you remember..." he hesitated. _No. No, I'm not going to mention Nalia, not now._ "Do you remember those stories about the Bhaalspawn? The last one, who ascended – or whatever it was."

"Yeah..." A glowering, suspicious look.

"Well, it was him. He came and spoke to me."

Neeshka looked away, wrapped her arms around herself. "Because of..."

"Me. He came because of me." Danno twisted round, took hold of her chin, ignored her tiny flinch and turned her face to his. Looked her straight in the eyes. "He's looking for followers, for believers. For companions. He was impressed by the way we dealt with the King of Shadows, and wanted me to join him. And he dealt with the vampires... he dealt with them because I threatened him."

"Huh?" She blinked, startled. Leant back a little, gave him a wary, sceptical glance. "Uh. Gee. Are you alright?"

He shook his head ruefully. "Neeshka, you wound me." She looked away hastily, stiffened. _Oops. Bad choice of words._ Danno dropped the bantering tone, spoke as earnestly and seriously as he could. "Neeshka, you saw me. I saw you, as well. I saw what was going to happen. I... Neeshka, I would do _anything_ to save you. So I ordered him to help. I threatened him." He laughed, a little shakily. "I have never, _never_ been so scared as I was then. He's so powerful. What he did to the vampires? A gesture."

He tentatively put his arm around her shoulders, and she looked back at him. Uncertain. Wondering. He gave her a wry smile, a one shoulder shrug. "I suppose he thought I was amusing. Maybe he was even impressed that I had the nerve. Either way, he decided to help. You saw what he did to the vampires, and he leant me the strength to finish off the ones that got past him."

He waited.

For a while, Neeshka just stared at him, her face unreadable. Then she hugged him fiercely.

"Oh, wow!" She was grinning now, a fierce, proud grin that left Danno breathless. "This is so... wow! You fought a god? For me!? Oh, I can't _wait_ to tell everyone. Elanee is going to be _sooo_ jealous. Y'know, Casavir's alright I suppose, apart from that aura, but _he_ never fought a god for her!"

A sarcastic, precise voice from across the dormitory interrupted.

"I seem to recall he said he _threatened_ a god. Hardly a likely story, even so, though I concede that our glorious leader does have sufficiently... suspect judgement as to make such a tale _marginally_ plausible." Danno glanced across in surprise to where Sand was propped up on his elbows, glowering at them balefully.

Neeshka bristled. "Well look who's finally awake. Well mister 'hardly likely', I didn't notice _you_ defending us from those vampires! What were you going to do anyway? Wave your knife at them until they laughed themselves to death?"

Danno put a finger across her lips, making her toss her head irritably. "Neeshka, I think he was going to try and keep them off you, so you had time to cast. _Instead_ of running for Crimmor while they occupied themselves killing you. That was very brave of him."

"Uh. I guess... Um... But fighting a god! That is just so – wow!"

Sand winced. Danno caught his eye over Neeshka's head, and shrugged. _That's as near to an apology as anyone can get from her._ Sand shook his head resignedly, then gave them both a penetrating glance.

"Hmm. _Quite_ the cosy couple. Not what I expected, I must say. Still, I suppose I ought to be resigned to the _complete_ absence of reason and common sense from our lives."

Danno hugged Neeshka closer. "Absolutely," he declared cheerfully. _I think she's forgiven me. I really think she has_. Having Neeshka cheerful, chattering... admiring him, made him feel drunk with relief and delight. "I think reason and common sense take one look at us lot, and flee in terror and panic!"

Sand wearily slumped back against his pillows and groaned. "Oh _gods_, I really do wish that didn't sound _quite_ so plausible."

"Sand? Are you alright?"

"No. Much as I would _like_ to believe that you have been restored to us, an outcome which I must confess would give me _great_ relief, I fear I am forced to conclude instead that we have all died and been cast into eternal torment." Sand delicately and futilely pinched his nostrils. "Ye gods! How can anyone endure such a stench!"

Danno shrugged. "You get used to it after a while."

"Indeed? Once one's senses have succumbed to utter despair and ended their wretched existences altogether, I presume?"

Khelgar groaned, and mumbled "Quit yer whining, elf. I've smelt worse dungeons."

Sand glared, his eyes more than a little wild, at the next bed where Khelgar was lying. "Yes, thank you for that _wonderfully_ helpful comment. However, you may recall, if your sleep addled brain is capable of such _elevated_ functions as actual thought, that we are not **in** a dungeon! And to endure this... this torture when we are supposed to be in a place of safety and refuge is quite simply... simply... Oh dear gods I can't even think of the word! I swear the stench has started to rot my brains!"

"Hey, easy Sand, easy!" Danno started to stand, looked pleadingly at Neeshka until she reluctantly let go of him, and hurried over to Sand's bed. "Look, I know it's upsetting, but as soon as everyone's awake and recovered we can get out of here. Just try and make the best of it until then, alright?"

Khelgar grunted approvingly. "That's right lad," he muttered vaguely, his eyes still closed. "It's just a wee bit of a smell. The elf will have to put up with it like... like..."

He fell silent, and for a moment Danno thought he'd gone back to sleep. Then he sat bolt upright. "Lad! You're alive!" He scrambled off his bed, staggered awkwardly across to Danno, and seized his arm. "Damn it lad, you really are alive." For a moment he just stood there, grinning broadly. Then he thumped Danno, quite hard.

"Dammit lad, you've got to stop dying on us! You're supposed to win fights, not die from 'em! And as for..." He stopped, half turned towards Neeshka, and his gaze went slightly vague. He looked down at the nightshirt he was wearing.

"Lad," he asked carefully, "why am I wearing this... _dress_!?"

"I _believe_," Sand said waspishly, "that that is called a 'nightshirt'. _Civilised_ folk wear them at night, so as to prevent the dirt from their clothes from soiling their bedding. You really ought to..."

He was interrupted by a sudden cry of "Oh no! The gears are slipping!" from Grobnar. All eyes turned to the gnome – who slipped back into a deeper sleep, mumbling what sounded like "Pass the acorns..."

Khelgar shook his head in exasperation, yawned violently, and turned back to Sand. "Are you sayin' I'm not clean enough for you, elf?"

"Most certainly not. I am merely explaining that garment and its purpose. Any conclusions you may draw are _entirely_ up to you."

"Now see..." Khelgar yawned again. "Dammit! Now see here..."

Danno heard a sigh from Elanee, and turned with a mixture of relief and dread away from Sand and Khelgar's squabble. As he went over to her, he glanced over at Neeshka, who was starting to look sulky and a little nervy. He caught her eye and mouthed _I love you_ to her. She brightened up a bit, and started (a little hesitantly) goading on Sand and Khelgar.

Danno leant over Elanee, and saw that she was gazing silently toward the high dormitory windows.

"Elanee...?"

She glanced at him, smiled rather sadly, and took his hand. "Danno. I'm glad you are alright. Casavir will be pleased..." She trailed off, and her eyes drifted back toward the windows. Danno realised with dismay that her hand was resting on her stomach.

"Elanee, didn't they tell you? Your baby's alright, it's unhurt."

Her gaze snapped back toward him, and she hurriedly pulled herself upright, her hand going to his shoulder. Her grip was painfully strong. "Danno, are you _sure_? What did they say?!"

"Um. Err..." Desperately, Danno tried to remember the exact words. _She has to know this. She really has to._ "They said, 'The baby's fine. She won't lose it, there's no taint or corruption.' Elanee, I'm sure they know what they're talking about, they treat adventurers from all over Amn. The baby really is alright."

Elanee sagged, closing her eyes in relief. Then abruptly she burst into noisy tears.

The three-way argument died instantly, the others looking over with various expressions of concern, embarrassment and uncertainty. Danno tried helplessly patting Elanee on the shoulder and making vague 'there there' sounds.

The sound of Elanee crying did what Sand and Khelgar's raised voices had failed to do, and woke Casavir. Still half drugged, he tried to spring to his feet, looking around for danger, for Elanee. He ended up half falling off the bed, and sliding down to sit on the floor with a look of sleepy, dismayed confusion.

Khelgar and Sand started over to help him, but Elanee pushed Danno away, scrambled toward Casavir, and threw herself on him, hugging him, kissing him, sobbing messily on him. Shocked awake, damp and bewildered, Casavir simply put his arms around her and hugged her tight.

Danno turned away from them, not wanting to intrude. His own eyes were pricking with tears, and he suddenly found himself thinking of the twins; the way they'd run around after Retta asking impossible questions, the way they'd teased Bevil, the way...

He scrubbed tears angrily out of his eyes, furiously turned away from the painful, unwanted memories. He cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we should leave them for a bit." He suggested quietly.

"Indeed, an _unusually_ perceptive suggestion." Sand was already edging toward the door, eager to be almost anywhere else. "And out of this stuffy room. If such a thing were possible, I would declare that unendurable smell is getting even worse!"

Danno sniffed very cautiously. He had almost stopped noticing the ghastly smell, but now that Sand mentioned it, there was something...

Ignoring Elanee and Casavir, Neeshka went over to one of the windows, peered through the translucent glass, then opened it a crack. And hurriedly slammed it, while Sand gagged helplessly, and Elanee's sobs were instantly turned to horrified spluttering and coughing.

"Ewww!" Neeshka waved a hand, trying to waft the smell away. "That's even worse than Zaxis!"

Danno clamped his hand over his nose, and tried breathing through his mouth. It didn't help much. "Hells ad debods! I thig Lydie has persuaded subwud to try burdig chicked feathers!"

---

Lydie had indeed persuaded the gullible high priest, Jarris, that burning bales of chicken feathers, bought cheap from the slaughterhouse, would drive off the smells of dung and piss from Crimmor's temporary overpopulation by nervous oxen. With the result that the yard of Tymora's temple (and indeed the temple itself) now stank of dung, piss, boiled cabbage, burnt feathers and roasted chicken.

The entire temple was evacuated.

As clerics and mages were hastily recruited from around the city, and prayers and spells of purification were chanted throughout the temple, the companions waited in a nearby tavern.

Danno had wanted to talk privately to Casavir and Elanee, to say thank you, to say sorry. To ask their forgiveness. Their drug addled exhaustion and the confusion of the move had made this impossible. Now, Casavir and Khelgar (who was fighting not to slide back into sleep) huddled miserably over mugs of bitter coffee, yawning constantly, while Grobnar resisted all attempts to wake him, and so was left to sleep on a sack of grain in the tavern's storeroom.

"It's an out... an out..." Khelgar yawned, swore, and gulped more coffee. "It's an outrage! Drugging us. And stripping us! It's not decent I say, not decent at all."

"Hey, what's the matter Stumpy? Afraid they weren't impressed by your 'Ironfist manhood'?" Neeshka smirked at him, and tried tickling him under the chin with her tail. She kept an arm tight around Danno's waist.

"Rrgh. Leave it be, tiefling." Khelgar absent-mindedly batted away her tail, and stared gloomily into his mug. "And what am I doing drinking this... muck? This is no drink for an Ironfist. No drink for any dwarf! Bring me some decen... decent..." Another jaw cracking yawn wracked him. "Tyr's teeth! Bring me some ale!"

He shoved the mug away from him, and glared at it as if it had insulted him. Elanee looked up, bleary and still red-eyed, and frowned at him. She seemed calmer now, but was subdued. She stayed very close to Casavir.

"The sleeping potion hasn't run its course yet. If you drink ale you'll most certainly fall asleep where you sit."

Khelgar yawned again, and cast a longing glance toward the storeroom where Grobnar still slept. "Huh. Can't say as that sounds like a bad idea."

"Hey, yeah!" Neeshka grinned wickedly. "And then we can all have a look and see how... impressive you are! If you get my meaning."

"What!? Now see here, tiefling..."

"I say two ales sees you snoring!"

Khelgar stared at her in open-mouthed outrage, then his brows came down in a determined frown, and he grinned fiercely back at her. "Oh ho! So it's a challenge you're looking for, is it? Well I may be half drugged, but I can still drink any skinny little twig of a tiefling under the table! Well what are you waiting for, lass? Go and get us some _real_ drink, and if you can match me and stay upright the longer then..." He hesitated, then with a determined expression drew himself upright and banged his fist on the table. "... then you can admire whatever takes your fancy!"

For a second Neeshka stared at him speechless, then she leapt to her feet. "Alright! Oh wow, this is going to be so much fun!" She started eeling her way through the crowded tavern toward the bar.

"Yay, a drinking contest. Lets all be sick and fall over." Sand pulled a disgusted face.

Khelgar grunted wordlessly, watching Neeshka as she headed for the bar. Then abruptly turned to Danno and growled, "Have you lost your mind lad?!"

"What?" Danno shook his head in amused bewilderment. "Khelgar, I was just going to ask you the same..."

"Lad! I'm serious! I'm glad to see you whole again, I am, but cosying up to the tiefling like that! Have you forgotten what happened? What she _did_ to you?!"

Danno stared at him, astonished at first. Then coldly angry.

"No, Khelgar. I remember it very clearly. Very clearly indeed. I also remember what happened when the vampires caught up with you. Have _you_ forgotten? She was going to die. She was going to fight the vampires alone, and _die_ alone, to give you a chance, however small, to get away!"

He laid his hands on the table, trying to stop them trembling. Closed his eyes, and tried to slow his shaky breath.

"Khelgar, that's enough for me. Can't it be enough for you?"

Khelgar dropped his gaze for a moment. He looked ashamed. He also looked worried. He glanced toward the bar, then looked Danno in the eye. "I fear for you lad. Can you not see that? The lass was sorry for what she did, but she wasn't thinking when she..." He paused.

_Can't even say it. Could any of us? Now?_

Khelgar shook his head miserably. "Lad, will she be thinking next time?"

"That's enough!" Danno's voice was a hiss of fury. "Khelgar, that's enough!"

He looked at Khelgar's face, at his weary, unhappy expression. Looked round the others, none of them meeting his gaze. All his anger drained away, and he just felt cold and empty.

_Oh gods. How did this happen? Everything was alright, and now... Why couldn't he just leave it be?_

"Khelgar, I'm sorry. I know what you all did for me. I know you nearly died because you brought me back instead of leaving me out there. And I'm grateful, more grateful than I can ever say. I know... I know I deserved to be left behind, after endangering you all in the first place." Casavir looked up, his mouth open to protest, but Danno spoke over him.

"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged you all into danger. I'm sorry I risked your baby." He looked at Elanee, desperate for her to understand – and forgive. "I didn't know, really I didn't. If I had, I'd have never..."

For a moment, he couldn't speak. It was all too much. Too shameful.

"But please. Just let this go. Just let whatever's between me and Neeshka stay between us? Please?"

For a long while, nobody said anything. Then...

Then a huge leather jug crashed onto the table, nearly making Danno jump out of his skin.

"Gee, I turn my back for a minute, and you all look like you're at a funeral!" Neeshka looked round the unhappy group brightly. "You must have _really_ missed me!"

Two full tankards were slammed down enthusiastically by a grinning barkeep. Drinking contests were profitable, and usually ended in a stupor rather than a fight - if the crowd weren't betting.

Neeshka squeezed back onto the bench beside Danno, and rubbed her hands gleefully. "Sooo. Are you ready to drink? Or are you gonna give up now?"

Khelgar stared morosely at his tankard for a moment – then pulled himself together, and grinned back at her. If Neeshka noticed how brittle and forced his grin looked, she gave no sign. "Ready? Lass, I'm an Ironfist! I was drinking stronger dwarves than you under the table before you were born."

"Hey! Did you just call me a dwarf?"

"It was a compliment lass. Now put yer belly where yer mouth is and drink!"

There was a long, liquid pause. Two tankards were emptied. Two tankards slammed triumphantly on the table.

Two drinkers slumped unconscious.

Sand fastidiously pushed Khelgar's head off his lap, leaving the limp dwarf to slide under the table. "Well I must say that has to be the most _civilised_ drinking contest I have ever seen. I really must get the recipe for that sleeping potion; I am quite certain it would make, oh I don't know, perhaps your uncle Duncan's establishment, a _far_ more salubrious place. If added judiciously to the ale kegs."

Danno tried to support Neeshka, but she slithered heavily and bonelessly from his grasp and to the floor. _Hells, how in Faerun did Casavir manage to carry me!?_ Her eyes briefly fluttered open, and she made a faint, puzzled "Wphgst?" sound. Then she slept.

"What the..." He dithered for a moment, then crouched down and lifted her head off the floor, a futile little gesture of care and comfort. "Why did she pass out?! I thought she was over that potion."

Elanee suppressed a yawn, sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Some people react this way to sleeping potions, seeming alert but liable to sleep easily. She will be well."

Casavir looked with bleary resignation at the crowds of patrons in the common room.

"I do not believe we will find rooms anywhere in Crimmor, and we are in no fit state to rejoin Oredar's caravan yet. Perhaps we should return to Tymora's temple. They at least seem well disposed to us."

"Blessed Mystra!" Sand had gone even paler than usual. "Must we endure that unholy stench once more?"

"I'm sure they will have cleansed the smell by now." Elanee patted Sand comfortingly. Then stopped patting, and looked a little worried. "Surely they will have cleared the worst of it?"

Casavir shrugged non-committally, and closed his eyes. Then started, and shook his head sharply. With a great effort he summoned up the energy to smile reassuringly at her. "I am certain the building will be bearable by now."

With sleepy deliberation he pushed back his chair, then reached under the table and dragged Neeshka out, gathering her into his arms and lifting her easily. Elanee picked up Neeshka's tail and draped it over her legs, so it wouldn't get trodden on.

"I'll get Grobnar," Danno muttered. He made his way back to the storeroom, while Elanee and Sand hauled Khelgar up between them.

In the storeroom, Grobnar slept on, hugging one corner of the grain sack he was on. Danno watched him enviously for a few seconds, then carefully picked him up. "Oof. Grobnar, you're heavier than you look. Or I'm weaker than I like to think. Huh, no prizes for guessing which."

Grobnar didn't seem inclined to wake up and comment, so Danno carried him back out, and joined the others in the street. Dusk was falling, and he shivered, remembering the slums in Athkatla – and what might be stalking the darkened streets. He just hoped that any surviving vampires would have run a long, long way away.

Still, the streets were crowded with merchants, their bodyguards, and all the traders trying to hawk their wares to the busy and stressed visitors. Not likely territory for an ambush or vampire attack. Danno guessed the greatest danger was from pickpockets and cut-purses. He summoned a minor elemental, and with this badge of their magic licenses to discourage petty thieves, they made their way in silence back to the temple.

---

"Lydie, I do _not_ believe you knew this would happen. Even you aren't so devious."

"No? Well, then I have the favour of Tymora. And either way, I'm _still_ wonderful!"

Danno, busy packing his things, plus some equipment they'd bought from the temple, looked up at the sound of Alatir and Lydie's voices from the hallway outside the little side room that Danno and Neeshka had commandeered.

Alatir sighed, and Danno could hear a note of amused resignation in his voice. "Yes, dear. You're wonderful. Now would you see if our brave vampire slayers are fit to leave yet? We really need the space."

"Yes I know. Because I'm brilliant. _And_ wonderful."

"Lydie!"

"Ooh, Alatir, you look angry. Are you going to _spank_ me?"

"If you carry on like this..."

"Ahhh. Incentive!"

"Lydie, trust me, you need incentive to be infuriating like a fish needs incentive to swim."

Lydie giggled cheerfully, and trotted into the room.

Sand needn't have worried himself about the smell of the place. So much purification magic and prayer had been expended, the temple of Tymora smelt of a sun-drenched garden in springtime after a shower. When they'd stepped across the threshold the evening before, Sand had nearly burst into tears of relief and gratitude, and Elanee had started talking earnestly about the advisability of a period of rest and recuperation.

Indeed, having spent the night in the place, Danno was sure his clothes were as good as freshly laundered, and felt as if he wouldn't need to bathe for a month.

Lydie smiled brightly, and knowingly, at the two of them. "Oh, you're up! Did you have fun last night?" she asked suggestively.

Neeshka bristled. "Huh! Like it's any of your business."

Lydie just grinned. "Well I know if Alatir died and came back, I wouldn't let him out of bed until he'd shown me that _everything_ was in working order! Ah, you're packing; that's good, we're a bit crowded."

"Crowded?" Danno carried on stowing potions in his pack, and looked at her quizzically. "You seem to have a big place here. Has there been some kind of trouble?"

"Heh. Not really. We pointed a big group of adventurers toward that vampire lair you hit, and they came back a bit banged up. They said there were vampire remains all over the place, and they still only just fought their way back out. You lot must be _really_ good! But that's not why we're crowded."

Lydie paused, and leant forward conspiratorially. "Since Jarris finally opened the purse strings and got this place purified so _thoroughly_, it seems there's no end to the number of devoted followers of Tymora in Crimmor. And lots of them brave adventurers who need _very_ prolonged treatments for _dreadful_ illnesses."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and a slyly 'puzzled' look came onto her face.

"Daral is really worried. Most of the illnesses don't have any actual symptoms, except people feel _so_ ill, and normal cures and blessings don't work at all. But they must be really ill, because they're making really, really generous donations to the temple. Just so they can stay here a _little_ longer!"

She folded her hands demurely, and sighed. "Jarris is so happy that there is such devotion to Tymora now, and says I should be rewarded. But I really can't think why." She suddenly grinned wickedly, and winked at them. "I'm sure the fact that this is the only place in Crimmor that doesn't stink has nothing to do with it."

She shrugged. "So we're putting a very ill and _very_ rich 'believer' in here. Sorry. But you will come back soon, won't you? You know," addressing Neeshka, "I didn't get to spend nearly long enough with Danno here. And he blushes so nicely too. It really is a shame."

She winked flirtatiously at Danno, patted his hip in a very familiar way, then without waiting for a response she turned and scurried out, calling "Hey, Alatir, another bed free. A bit bounced on, but fine, really!"

Danno watched her go, and couldn't help grinning (and blushing) happily after her._ Alatir is a very lucky man. And she was right, the chicken feathers did work. In a way._

He turned to Neeshka to share the joke with her – and stopped dead, the smile fading from his face.

Neeshka was looking at him with a bleak, miserable expression, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. For a few seconds she just stared at him wordlessly. Then she turned abruptly and, taking her hand off her dagger hilt, carried on packing.

Quietly, Danno turned back to his own packing. As he finished stowing his things, and securing his pack, now and then he would unconsciously rub at his chest – where he now had a second scar.


	21. Dark Spirits

**Dark Spirits**

"I... I do hope Sir Danno is alright. He is alright... isn't he?"

_No Grobnar, of course I'm not alright. Would you be talking about me like this if I was alright? Idiot._

"I am sure he will be well. He has been greatly hurt, but he will heal in time."

_Oh, really? And if Elanee left **you**, I'm sure you'd 'heal in time', wouldn't you? Or would you take the coward's way out, and kill yourself? Hmm? Except you wouldn't even have the guts to do that properly, you'd just go running off to get yourself killed in some brain-dead fight against impossible odds._

"Ah, yes. _Clearly_ all that is needed is a few more days introspection, and then I'm quite certain that our leader will be _entirely_ himself again."

_Hells and demons, Sand! Will you just give up on your snide, sniping sarcasm? And your **bloody**, precious **emphases!?** Or do I have to come in there and STRANGLE you?_

"I fear Sand may be right. He was always... quiet, both as a child and a man. But this withdrawal, this spurning of all company... I sense a great pain and a growing darkness of the spirit in him. I fear he may not be well for a long time to come. If... if ever."

_Oh, what a nice little character dissection, you cold blooded, tree-hugging witch! 'A growing darkness of the spirit', eh? What a wonderfully concerned and loyal way of turning everyone against me. "I think he's going mad, but I'm not going to come out and say it, I'll just set your imaginations running wild."_

"Oh dear. Do you think I should try singing him some cheery songs? I'm not sure my ballads of lost love would be quite the thing, rather a lot of doom and suicide you know, but I'm sure a rousing tale of... um... well, maybe not that one, too much blood, now I'm sure I had just the thing jotted down somewhere..."

_Don't you dare threaten me, Grobnar, don't you dare!_

"The lad doesn't need songs! He just needs a few ales inside him!"

_Ah, yes, the Ironfist answer to everything you can't fight. I'm amazed you ever managed to crawl out of a tankard long enough to swing a punch._

"Well, I'm _hardly_ surprised that you recommend debauchery, but in his present state I do _not_ believe that drunkenness is the solution to his problems."

_And I suppose you have a potion or spell that will help, have you? Something to take away the pain? Something to set the world to rights?_

"Huh. He needs to break a few heads, that what it is. Break a few heads and get tumbled by a pretty lass. Or get the nerve to go and find the tiefling, find her and bring her back. And he won't do that sober, I'm thinking."

_I... I can't, Khelgar. I can't. She doesn't want me, I can't find her. I can't!_

"Khelgar, did you not see the pain between them those last weeks? The hurt? Would you have him prolong that for the both of them?"

"Is he hurtin' less now, Paladin? Is she? Were you hurtin' less when you ran from your troubles in Neverwinter?"

_I can't stand this any more._

Danno turned over in bed, and tapped politely on the flimsy wall.

"Do you all think you could raise your voices a bit? I don't think everyone in the taproom can hear you. Some of the old fellows are a bit deaf, you know."

A silence from the other room – then hasty whispering, like naughty children caught out arguing instead of sleeping. Danno supposed it was rather funny. He thought he might never laugh again.

He lay still, not bothering to respond to the light tap on his room's door.

"Danno? May I come in?"

_No. Go away Elanee._

A brief, whispered discussion outside his door, then the faint crackle of magic, and a click as his door unlocked.

_Huh. Sand's rubbish at that spell. She'd have had it open without a sound._

Elanee came into the room warily, and sat tentatively on the edge of his bed. He turned his head, looked incuriously at her.

_Hm. Five months, I'd guess. Near enough. Gods, has it been that long? We should have been back in Neverwinter long ago. Oh well, nearly there. At least she won't be delivering on the road somewhere, and we'll be back before winter. Just._

"Danno, we need to talk." She spoke gently, but firmly.

He closed his eyes wearily. "No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about. Elanee, it's late and I'm tired. We need to set off early tomorrow, and we all need to sleep."

Elanee said nothing, she just sat quietly – waiting. After a while, he opened his eyes again. She was looking at him, very steadily. Very sadly. He stared at her coldly.

"Elanee, I don't want to talk! Is that so hard to understand?"

"No, Danno, I do understand. I understand how painful this is for you. But we... _you_ need to talk! Ever since Neeshka left, you have cut yourself off from us – from everybody. I... we fear..." She hesitated, couldn't help glancing at the rickety little dresser. Then she seemed to gather her courage, and raising her voice slightly, said "We fear for you, for what you are doing to yourself."

She gazed at him earnestly, reaching a hand tentatively out to him. "Please, we only wish to help you. I beg you, do not shut us out."

Danno didn't take her hand. He looked for a while at the dresser, where the silver sword lay. The shards had started grinding against each other, loudly and angrily. It had been doing that far more often lately, even when he wasn't holding it. The sound rose, and shards started darting momentarily away from the sword, cutting little slices from the dresser and the wall beside it. Elanee stiffened, half rose. He heard a heavy creak from the floorboards near the door, and guessed Casavir was braced to rush in.

_I mustn't upset her. Not good for the baby._

He carefully pushed all thought, all feeling to one side. Concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly. Gradually the metallic, agitated sound died away. Elanee sank back onto the bed. He could feel her tension, and her breath sounded quick and shallow.

He lay for a few moments, until he was sure he was calm. "Elanee, I really am very tired. Could you go now?"

Slowly, wearily, she pulled herself to her feet and, without another word, left the room.

For a while, he stared vaguely around. He knew every inch of this room. They'd only stopped at the inn that afternoon, but the room was as familiar to him as every other poky little inn room between Baldur's Gate and Neverwinter. A tiny room, stuck in an awkward corner of a tiny building. Newly whitewashed walls, unevenly plastered, paper thin. Rickety wooden furniture, roughly made and splintery, freshly sanded. Bare, uneven floorboards, scrubbed mercilessly until they looked like bleached driftwood. The whole room, the whole inn, seemed to say 'we may be poor and cheap, but by the gods we are _clean_'.

It had been in a room just like this one that he'd woken from a dream of loss and futile search, to find Neeshka packing.

Of course, it had been over long before that, really. They had still slept together, even made love sometimes. Rarely. But they'd spoken less and less, and when they did talk to each other there was always the fear of yet another row. There had been plenty of those, in cheap, shabby little rooms like these.

"_Hells hells hells! I thought we were going back! Y'know, when we crossed the border? But nooo, now we have ta go all the way back to your precious Neverwinter. What's the matter, do you miss licking Nasher's backside?!"_

"_Neeshka, haven't you been listening?! Torrefin swung the council our way because he wanted to hurt the Cowled Wizards. Without him... it's just too dangerous! We just need to..."_

"_Run away! Gods, you are such a coward. It's your fault anyway, you had to go running off to help that poor sweet Sarin..."_

"_What in the nine hells did you think you were doing?"_

"_I was just checking what was in those boxes! I mean, you're sooo worried about us taking risks now. Wouldn't want to find we were bringing anything nasty into Neverwinter."_

"_So you get caught by a trap, and now Oredar's dumped us!"_

"_Hey! That was a really sneaky trap! It's not my fault if..."_

"_If you'd kept your fingers to yourself and used your brain for a second, and maybe told me what you were planning, we wouldn't be in this mess!"_

"_Well I'm sorry! I... I was just trying to help, Danno."_

"_Then don't! If you're going to muck it all up, don't try and help!"_

"_Hells no! We're all sleeping out in a barn, why does **she** get a room in an inn!?"_

"_Look, Neeshka, it's not good for Elanee to be sleeping rough, not in her condition..."_

"_Oh yeah? Well she should'a thought of that before she got 'in her condition'!"_

"_Neeshka! You're being unreasonable..."_

"_No! It's my money, if you want special treats for your Little Miss Delicate you pay for it yourself!"_

"_Stop that!"_

"_Huh? Uh, gee Danno, sorry. I... I thought you liked..."_

"_No! I've never liked that, and you know it! You only do it because you know it embarrasses me!"_

"_Th-that's not true! Danno, don't go. Look, we can..."_

"_Oh stop whinging."_

Oh, they had made up after their fights. A mumbled apology and a nervous, hesitant kiss, maybe a present or two, and everything would be almost alright. Until the next time, and the next time, and the time after that. And with each row, each stupid, petty argument, they became more distant. Less at ease with each other.

In all their arguments, though, they never argued about the worst problem. They never had the argument that went...

"_You slept with her!"_

"_You killed me!"_

Danno lay, sleepless, staring at the low ceiling.

_Maybe, if we had argued about that, none of the rest would have mattered. Maybe we'd have been able to put things right._

_Maybe we'd have split up instantly, cleanly._

_Maybe one of us would have died. Permanently._

_I don't want to take a sleeping potion again tonight. They're not working as well as they should anyway. Too many, too often._

He heard very soft conversation from the next room, much quieter now. Not whispering, exactly, but too quiet to make out the words. The night wore on, and silence fell.

And still he lay awake, staring at nothing in the soft candlelight.

---

"Knight Captain?"

"Just a moment." Danno carefully completed a symbol on the parchment he was scribing, and looked up. Pale autumn sunlight flooded the inn's yard where he'd set up a desk and chair. Their funds were low again, and they'd had to do a variety of jobs to pay for their night in the inn. It was late morning now, and he was beginning to think that they'd have to spend the rest of the day working, spend another night here, and set off the next day. Again. They could have been back in Neverwinter months ago if they hadn't been spending so much time working at badly paying jobs.

Danno had spent the morning scribing a collection of scrolls for the innkeeper to use or sell. It was dull, mindless, repetitive work, and it rankled how little the innkeeper was paying. Still, every copper counted, especially as they'd have to lay in supplies for the long trek through the now lifeless Mere to the town of Leilen, and maybe further. While this village, Southmere, had escaped almost unscathed as the undead rose in the Mere and marched north to Neverwinter, by all accounts Leilen had been evacuated and effectively razed to the ground. It was being rebuilt, but they might not be able to get supplies before reaching Crossroad Keep.

Every so often as Danno worked he'd look out of the yard and along the village street. Just off the Trade Way, Southmere was a rich little village, proudly boasted a cobbled main street and _two_ inns – this being the cheap one. Neat houses and shops lined the street, a few showing scorched thatch or new doors, and a handful of traders and villagers browsed the street stalls and shops.

_This should make me happy. They survived, they rebuilt, life goes on. Why here? Why not in West Harbor? What did these people do to deserve their luck? Why should they be happy and healthy, while everybody..._

_I mustn't think like this. It's wrong. Stop it, concentrate on scribing, don't think, don't feel._

So he had tried to work steadily, thought of going back into the dim inn and braving the sound of Grobnar entertaining the few patrons - and yet stayed out in the sunlit yard, looking up occasionally and struggling with his black thoughts. Now, to add to his bad mood, Casavir was looming at him, looking as if he was about to announce the end of the world.

_Hells, what is it now? Probably some utter disaster, like running out of soap._

"Yes, what is it?"

Casavir paused for a moment, looking down at his gauntlet, fiddling with a perfectly adjusted strap.

"Elanee and I have been considering. We have decided... we have decided that we shall not be travelling further."

Danno said nothing.

Casavir cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We feel that this village is as good a place to settle as any, at least until the child is born. We are on the edge of the Mere, and Elanee will be able to travel easily into it and do what she can to encourage new life to take hold. And our child will have a place of safety in which to be born."

Danno looked back down at the parchment, then carefully started scribing another symbol. Casavir waited, growing increasingly agitated. Finally his frustration proved to much for him. He stepped forward and deliberately spread his hand over the parchment. Danno looked up sharply – and his furious outburst withered on his tongue as he looked into Casavir's eyes.

For the first time since Danno had met him, the smouldering anger that could, in combat, erupt into a tight and controlled blaze of fury, was turned on one of his companions.

_But it's not the first time. He killed Qara without hesitation._

"Danno, have you nothing to say? Now, of all times? We have fought side by side, we have trusted our lives to each other! I have done nothing to deserve such coldness from you, and nor has Elanee!"

Danno couldn't help cringing slightly. Casavir paused, then his shoulders slumped sadly, and his voice softened.

"We have dared to stand against utter darkness together, and we have prevailed together. And now, when we must part company, would you do so in silence? I... I would have us part as companions in arms, if not as friends. Do you wish us to part as enemies?"

Danno stood up – and turned away. It was easier, talking to empty air. He could almost pretend he was talking to himself, just repeating the words that gnawed at him, and never let go...

"What do you want me to say, Casavir? Do you want me to smile sweetly? Do you want me to wish you well?

"I've lost everything, don't you understand? I've lost my home, my parents, my friends. I... I've lost her. Neeshka. And that was my fault, no-one to blame except myself. Now I'm losing you, and Elanee, and that's my fault as well, isn't it? What can I say, Casavir? What do you want me to say?

"Do you want me to _pretend_ to be glad for you? Or do you want me to ask you to stay? Do you want me to ask Elanee to live in some graveyard of a stone-cut fortress for the rest of her life? Do you want me to ask Khelgar to abandon his people to stay with me?

"Casavir I can't... I don't... oh for the gods' sake just go! Just go and..."

He stopped.

_Oh hells and demons, what have I said? Why can't I... why can't I just grow up? Why do I feel like I'm falling apart the whole time? Doesn't it ever get better?_

Behind him Casavir sighed. There was a creak of leather, a soft scrape of armour, a footstep. Casavir's powerful arm went round his shoulders, hugged him briefly. He remembered the bridge in West Harbor, Retta's arm round his shoulders. He remembered sobbing helplessly, Nalia hugging him...

_No. Oh please no. Not a one night stand with Casavir, please. Haven't I suffered enough? And Elanee... Elanee! She wouldn't stop at stabbing me, she'd... she'd... Oh gods! What if she joined in!?_

---

For the rest of his days, whenever the dark and solitary moods threatened to overwhelm him, Danno would bring out the memory of that day and bask. The memory of himself, laughing wildly, hysterically; of the look of helpless dismay and alarm on Casavir's face; of Grobnar rushing out of the inn, convinced that some demonic horror was slaughtering the villagers and whooping with laughter as it did so.

But best of all, the memory that would brighten the darkest of days at least a little, was the memory of Casavir, that courageous warrior and leader of men, who had stood undaunted before the blackest of evils, routed and retreating in horrified confusion as Danno tried to explain to Grobnar what was so funny.

---

That evening, Danno sat by the fire in the inn's taproom, staring into the flames. His good humour had faded, but he was feeling better than he had. He'd forced himself to eat with the others for the first time in weeks. He thought – he hoped – that they'd approved. They'd certainly done their best to be welcoming. Even so, it had been a gloomy and taciturn occasion. Danno had been somewhat diverted by Grobnar's attempts to ask Elanee how three people could be lovers (and his bemused speculations about the mechanics of the process), but Elanee was too preoccupied and subdued to indulge him.

_Not in a mood to risk teasing Casavir either, I suppose._ Danno looked at Casavir's tense irritability, and decided he didn't blame her.

Eventually Grobnar took the hint (or simply distracted himself) and drifted onto less tricky topics, such as the correct metre to use for his song 'The Battle of Torrefin's Lair'.

After a while Danno excused himself, and went to stare into the fire. Sand struck up a desultory conversation with a merchant who was also staying at the inn had some unusual books for sale, while Grobnar wandered back to his room to write. Danno sat and thought – or rather, tried to avoid thinking.

_Too much thinking, and it never gets me anywhere._

"You won't be finding any answers in there, lad."

He started, and looked over at Khelgar. The dwarf was sitting quietly beside him, observing him thoughtfully.

_He's changed. Gods, how he's changed. He isn't the bar-room brawler I met... how long ago? Just over a year? Huh. I forgot my birthday. I must have been... what was I doing that day? Oh. Right. Fighting a red dragon. Or was that the day before? Oh well, close enough..._

"And you won't be finding them in my beard either."

"Uh. Sorry Khelgar." He rubbed his eyes, tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "I was just thinking. It's not been so long really, has it?"

"Huh?" Khelgar frowned, puzzled. "What hasn't been long?"

"Since we met, at the... something Inn. Willow Inn? It hasn't been so long, just over a year..."

"Ah, well, seems like the longest year of my life, it does. Never thought I'd see the things I have. Or do what I've done. And now..." he glanced down at the hammer of Ironfist at his side. "Now I'm clan leader. Me! Fate has a strange sense of fun, I'm thinking."

Danno looked back at the fire. _A sadistic sense of 'fun'._

"So. What will you be doing now, lad?" There it was again, that shrewd, speculative look. Danno felt very uncomfortable under that steady gaze.

_When did it happen? When did he become clever and perceptive?_ He abruptly remembered a dingy, slovenly temple in Athkatla, and Khelgar's voice...

"_I'd be sorry to see you set your feet on the same road he took. Can you not think of another way?"_

_Maybe he's always been wise – he just didn't know it._

"What do you mean, Khelgar?"

"Seems to me we've all got our plans, all neat and settled on. The Paladin and Druid raise a clutch of nippers on the edge of these marshes, Sand goes back to his shop in the docks, the gnome... well, I reckon he carries on like always. And I go to the... to our stronghold." Now it was Khelgar who was staring into the fire, and whatever he saw it wasn't burning logs.

"To my stronghold." He murmured softly.

Then he glanced up at Danno, and smiled thinly. "Don't reckon I'll be having much time for brawling, eh lad?"

"Um. I suppose not..."

"And what about you, huh? Seems to me like you haven't got a plan."

Danno shifted uneasily. "I don't know. I haven't..." He hesitated, then finally admitted... "I don't want to think about it."

"Huh. I'm thinking you haven't got a choice. Or you must make a choice, I should say."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

Khelgar frowned, impatient. "Lad, you've got to choose! Me, I'm heading east. That's my road, east to our stronghold, to home. Not to Neverwinter. Sand's for Neverwinter. Those two..." glancing over to where Elanee and Casavir were sitting hand in hand, talking quietly, "... stay here. So what do you do, eh? Go north? East? Stay here? Or do you go south?"

Danno went rigid, and for a moment he couldn't breath. He felt as if Khelgar had punched him in the gut.

_Stop it. It's just a direction. Why shouldn't I go south? Lots of places, heading south. Towns, cities... people._

_Neeshka._

_Nalia... No. No, I burnt that bridge. Burnt, broken, and no repairing it._

Khelgar waited for a while, then shook his head and stood up. He turned away, started to stomp off – then turned back, suddenly fierce and bristling.

"You did a grand thing fighting the Githyanki, and the King of Shadows! Inspired me, you did, and I'm not too proud to admit it. When I met you first, I'd not have had the nerve to lift the hammer of Ironfist. But you showed me, you did. I stood in front of that hammer, Keros, Khulmar and all the others watching me, and I thought to meself, 'Well I may be pissing in my boots, but that never stopped Danno, and by Ironfist himself I'll not let it stop me!'

"I thought the tiefling was all wrong for you, I'll own up to it. I thought you'd end up dead, and I feared for you.

"But lad, this is worse than dead! If you'd handed yourself to the shadows, you'd not have been more miserable. Like some ghost you are, wringing your hands over what's gone wrong, and no strength in you to put it right!"

He paused again, waiting for a response that never came. Then, in a softer voice he said "We've all done things we're not proud of lad. I turned my back on my people to chase a dream. The Paladin, he ran from his troubles and tried to get himself killed. The wizard got in deep with those Luskan mages, and I'm thinking there were some bad dealings he won't admit to. And the druid, she helped you kill the only family she ever had."

Danno turned his gaze from the fire to stare at Khelgar, protests fighting for his voice.

_It wasn't like that... She stayed true... They attacked us... They fell to shadow..._

_She... chose not to fall. Chose to fight. To kill..._

Khelgar nodded. Moved back and sat down again.

"Ah, didn't think of it like that, did you lad? She lost as much as you, she did. Some of it by her own hand, too." He glanced again towards her and Casavir, quiet now, sitting close, Elanee leaning against Casavir and drowsing. Then he looked back at Danno, bewilderment and disappointment mingled in his expression.

"She's hurting, but she's still alive. Lad, you've as much strength as that lass, I know you have, so why don't you use it? Eh?"

"I don't know! Khelgar, I... I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me." He dropped his face into his hands. "Gods, maybe Elanee's right, maybe I am going mad."

"Huh? Now stop talkin' nonsense. She never said the like..."

"Oh, really? So what do you think she meant by 'a growing darkness of the spirit', eh?" Khelgar opened his mouth to object, but Danno carried on, talking over his protest. "Sounds to me like she thinks I'm going mad. But I don't _feel_ mad, Khelgar! I don't! I just feel... I just feel like it's all too much. Everything's just getting harder and harder, and all the time I just want to cry, or scream, or smash something!

"I wish... Oh gods, hells and demons, I wish you'd left me dead! I've ruined everything and I can't... I can't see my way through, I don't know what to do any more, and I'm tired!

"Oh gods, I'm so tired. Tired of lying awake every damn night, tired of getting up each morning and struggling on, and on, and on through one bloody day after another. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of... tired of being alive."

Khelgar said nothing. _And what is there to say?_ Danno sat, eyes screwed shut, mouth dry, heart pounding. He waited until he could trust his voice not to break.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself." He laughed cynically. "How does that old song go? 'Tired of living, and scared of dying'? Well I'm scared of dying. I'm _terrified_. I know what happens next... endless fighting or endless torment, and I can't face either.

"So, that's my choice. Not dying. And that's all I can cope with, Khelgar, just not dying. What does it matter which road I take?"

He looked at Khelgar – and to his shock and dismay, met an expression of grim anger mingled with contempt.

"So that's it, is it lad? After all you've done, you give up and prove yourself a coward? It's all about the tiefling lass, isn't it? We can't help you with that, so when you face trouble on yer own, you just curl up in a corner and feel sorry for yerself, eh?

"Well, I'm disappointed in you, I am. The tiefling was a fool to go, but... but that lass never had any sense. But you! To let her run off like that, and weep and wail over it?" He banged his fist on the arm of his chair, jumped to his feet. "You're not the man I thought you were, I see that now. No stomach for a fight, no stomach at all!"

He glared at Danno, then spat in the fire, and stomped off, muttering furiously to himself.

Danno sat, stunned, staring after him. Then anger overtook shame, and he leapt to his feet, caught up with Khelgar in a couple of strides and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"NOW SEE HERE_** – OOF!**_"

Despite twisting away from the blow, a reflex learnt from more fights gone bad than he liked to remember, he folded up, winded and clutching his stomach. For a moment spots danced in front of his eyes, and he was left staring helplessly at the floor. Then he dragged himself upright and stared open-mouthed and shocked at Khelgar.

"You..." His voice came out as a strangled croak. "You hit me..."

Casavir had leapt to his feet, almost spilling the sleeping Elanee onto the floor, and hurried over.

"Both of you, be calm..."

"Cas! What...? You nearly..."

"Elanee my dear, I think perhaps we would be best advised to quietly and above all _quickly_ go..."

"Sand, let go of me! I'm no invalid. What is going on..."

"Ach, it was just a little tap. I'm sorry lad, I was a wee bit hasty..."

Danno finally managed to gather his scattered wits – and kicked Khelgar hard between the legs.

---

"Danno, stop flinching!"

Elanee sighed in exasperation, and started dabbing at his cut eyebrow again.

Danno flinched – again. "Ow! That hurts! Look, can't you just heal it?"

She sat back and glared at him. "After the way you behaved tonight, no, I don't believe I shall. And it would be a waste of either spell or potion to treat such a trivial injury." She started dabbing at his brow again, with a great deal more firmness than Danno thought necessary.

"Agh!"

Sand turned from counting out coins to the angry innkeeper, who'd spent the last few minutes keeping up a steady litany of complaint about breakages. "How did our _glorious_ leader hurt his eye anyway? I can scarcely credit that Khelgar struck him _there_."

Khelgar looked up. He was still grinning like an idiot, in spite of a swollen lip.

"Huh? I never touched the lad's face. Not that I couldn't! Let me tell you, I can throw a tankard harder than the paladin can swing that mace of his. Ah, a tankard's a fine weapon in the right hands. 'The great leveller' I call it. Many's the big man who's found his face at my feet, and learnt what a true master of tavern brawling is! But I wouldn't do that to the lad, it wouldn't be fair on a novice like him."

Elanee gave Khelgar a ferocious stare, then sniffed disdainfully and turned back to Danno, who was still wincing and grumbling. "Oh stop making such a fuss! You have only yourself to blame."

Danno gave her an indignant look. "Elanee, you punched me in the face!"

"Oh my! Did she?" Grobnar quickly turned back a page in his notebook, and started crossing out what he'd just been writing.

"Yes she did! When I was chasing Khelgar round the table!"

"Huh? Lad, have you lost yer mind?" Khelgar scowled good humouredly. "I was chasing _you_! Would've caught you too, if weren't for those long shanks of yours. That's a sneaky tactic, tryin' to wear me out. You could've had the decency to run away properly!"

Grobnar stopped writing, and looked at them in bewilderment. "I'm sorry, just a trifle confused here. Who was chasing who? It really is rather important, you see. I simply have to get the rhyme right!"

Danno smirked at Khelgar. "_I_ was chasing _him_! He was so bow-legged, he couldn't chase a zombie with its legs cut off! And _I'd_ have caught _him_ if Elanee hadn't knocked me down!"

"Are you suggesting that I was saved by a slip of an elf lass? Me!? That... that's fighting talk that is!"

Elanee snatched a mug off a table, and banged Khelgar on the head with it. "No! No more fighting!"

"Now see here!" _Oh gods, the innkeeper's off again._ "I can't be having with any more unruly behaviour masters, mistress, I really can't. I'll lose all my custom! This is a decent place!" _Lose his custom? Ha! The only customer he's 'lost' is that old gent who laughed so hard he got dizzy, and Casavir had to help him home. He'll be here every night for months now, boring people with the story._

Khelgar rubbed his head, and chuckled ruefully. "Ah lass, it's all in good fun! And I'll wager it's good practice for you, for when the little lad starts scrapping..."

Elanee winced. "Sylvanus grant that it's a girl."

"...or the little lass." Khelgar shrugged cheerfully, then leant toward Danno and said, in a hoarse stage whisper, "I know some lasses that are as fearsome as any lad!"

"Oh my yes!" Grobnar paused from pacing round a table, and muttering something about 'how many times around...' "Why, only the other day I heard Sir Casavir telling the innkeeper that some woman would be the death of him. She must be a truly terrifying warrior!" He hesitated, and then turned to Elanee, looking quite worried. "Um. Do you think he'll be alright? He wouldn't tell me who it was, although he was talking about ending his days in a gods-forsaken swamp, so I think... Oh, but I'm sure he has some sort of plan, and he has _you_ to help him. Err... doesn't he?"

Elanee quickly wiped the chilly expression from her face, smiled gently, and patted Grobnar's hand reassuringly. "Of course he does." She glanced over to the door as Casavir came back in, shaking the rain off his cloak. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I won't let any _other_ woman hurt him."

Grobnar looked immensely pleased and relieved, while Sand quietly retreated out of harm's way, and Khelgar let out a bark of laughter. Casavir gave Khelgar a menacing look. He'd healed his broken nose, but Danno thought he'd think twice in future about trying to stop a rampaging dwarf by bodily hauling him off his feet – and lifting him high enough to head-butt.

Danno took advantage of Elanee's distraction to escape her tender mercies, and sneaked a healing potion from his pocket. He sighed with relief as the pain in his brow eased, and sat quietly in a corner, watching Elanee make life hard for the startled and bewildered Casavir.

He closed his eyes, listening to their voices. _Strange. Even when they argue, __they sound so much in love. Of course, it helps that Casavir couldn't... wouldn't lose his temper with her no matter what she said or did._ He opened his eyes as Elanee's sharp tones faltered, and smiled wryly to see Casavir looming over her, calm and foreboding. _Not that he's a pushover._

He closed his eyes again, leant against the wall, and sighed.

_North. I'll go north, to Crossroads Keep. To start with, at any rate. I want to see Bevil again... maybe Daeghun, if he's still there._

_Then... then I'll see. I... I could go South. To Athkatla? Maybe... maybe she'd still have me. Even after I chose Neeshka? No-one else would, but she's not like anyone else. She can be very hard, I think... I don't know. I'll think about it._

_Maybe elsewhere. Perhaps... she wants to be found? If she doesn't? I could be searching... well, for the rest of my life. I could walk right past her, and never know. She might be in this room right now, and I wouldn't know._

_Later. Tomorrow, north. I'll say goodbye to Casavir and Elanee, say goodbye to Khelgar. I have to do it, no matter how it hurts. Say goodbye, say thank you, say sorry._

_I owe them all so much, so much more than I can ever repay, and I've done so little even of what I could. I hope they understand. I'm not sure I do._

_I think something broke inside me, and it's still broken. When she left? No, before that. Before the King of Shadows, though he split the break wide, and she shattered it entirely._

_Maybe in West Harbor. Maybe when demons and undead fought, a blade shattered... a woman died. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I was always broken, just one of those things, a crack waiting for the right pressures to reveal it._

_Never mind. It's too much to worry about._

_Tomorrow, north. Then I'll think about it._

_Later._


	22. The End of The Road

**The End of The Road**

Danno stood on the walls of Crossroads Keep.

Dull, lowering clouds wrapped the world from horizon to horizon, leaving it dull, grey and formless.

He looked out at the fields surrounding the keep, empty of all life. No crops, no harvesters, no beasts. Not even a stray rook pacing the stubble, or a songbird flickering through the hedges. He shivered, trying to shake off the feeling that it had all been for nothing, that he had dreamt the battle beneath Merdelain in the corpse of the Illefarn empire – that the King of Shadows had won after all.

_It's just autumn. Everybody's tucked up, safe from the cold... even the animals. We did win, there's light and ale and conversation, in the inn and the barracks._

Even so, the memory of the Mere haunted him. It had been so utterly lifeless, in a way he'd never imagined. Trees still stood, their leaves dry and bleached, clinging to twigs and branches. Tall grasses stood in the dark, motionless waters of the swamp, rustling faintly whenever a breeze wandered by. Water plants still hung in the clear waters, or floated on the surface, pale and bleached by time, but intact.

Nothing rotted, nothing moved, nothing made a sound. No insects, no birds, no fish. Nothing.

They had barely spoken, Danno, Sand and Grobnar, as they travelled deeper and deeper into the Mere. It had seemed... improper, to break the silence. Disrespectful.

_A Cathedral of Death. The King of Shadows' great Monument. This... this could have been the whole Sword Coast, all of Faerun. The whole world._

_Would there have been shades and zombies, vampires and skeletons? Or would they have fallen silent too, even their weak mockery of life drained and discarded?_

Four days of utter, utter silence. Danno had spent hours straining his ears, hearing nothing but their own footsteps, their own breathing. For a while, at first, Grobnar had chattered on as usual, discussing the weather, the scenery, the places he'd been, the bizarre things he'd seen and done. It had seemed very strange, to listen to one of his rambling, near incomprehensible tales, and suddenly realise...

"Then the blastglobes just exploded. Poof! My, that made my ears ring, I can tell you! Must have given the demons a bit of a shock, oh my yes. Although... well, there certainly seemed to be enough of them left. They just came rushing in, imps and seducers and all, fireballs and lightning everywhere, and I summoned a rather ferocious looking badger but I think Sir Danno's earth elemental stepped on it by accident and squashed it quite, quite flat."

... that he was recounting to Sand the tale of their doomed defence of Tavorick's estate. _Is this how that brave, outrageous old man will eventually be remembered? As an incoherent tale of demons and squashed badgers? Is that what __**all**__ our battles, losses and triumphs will end up as? Oh well, at least someone should get a few laughs out of it all. There are worse legacies to leave._

Before long though, the oppressive silence even got to Grobnar, and he gradually stopped chattering, and became as glum and quiet as Sand and Danno.

Apart from the occasional, softly muttered "Pass that bedroll" or "Here's your soup" as they made camp at night (and how they huddled close to their little fire, cherishing it's lively warmth, crackle and dance), they simply trudged on as far and as fast as they could each day. They only broke the silence when they reached the turning that led – had once led – to West Harbor.

They stood for a little while, quietly observing the fresh wheel ruts in the dirt.

"Well, it would _appear_..." Sand stopped, as if shocked by the sound of his own voice breaking the silence. Then, in rather softer tones... "It would appear that your home isn't quite as dead as we had thought."

"How marvellous!" Grobnar, even though he'd become quite subdued, came bouncing back to cheerful exuberance at the thought. "Why, maybe some of your old friends have come back! Well, a few, though it did look as if almost everyone... um... well... well, Sir Bevil did say he wasn't the _only_ person who left. Maybe some others... perhaps?"

Danno stared along the track for a while. _Home_... He tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine the few survivors, the few who'd left before the King of Shadows' Reaver had come. He tried to imagine the tough, indomitable Harbormen rebuilding. Planting the fields afresh. The dead buried,the village alive again.

He saw empty houses. He saw ruined and burned cottages, among the makeshift repairs and ramshackle huts. He saw the old buildings torn down, robbed out for their stone and any unburned timbers. He saw the faces of strangers, new settlers, living in homes where the people he had known used to live. He saw the neat rows of gravestones, with familiar names cut into them.

He looked around. _The marshes used to teem with life. Insects, frogs and toads, lizards... all sorts. Flowers and toadstools... _He imagined living in West Harbor now. Mile upon mile upon endless mile of dead, motionless silence, hemming them in.

He sighed.

"It isn't home now. Not for me. Not any more." He turned away, started walking north along the main road.

After a while, Grobnar and Sand caught up. None of them spoke.

---

The next day was a day of autumn mists and vague, uncertain light that seemed to conceal more than it illuminated. Ill-define shapes loomed at them, seeming to grow or shrink as they approached. There wasn't even the sound of a breeze, and their own footsteps were silent on the damp road.

Danno knew they should stop. Even before the King of Shadows, the marshes could be dangerous in weather like this. A poorly maintained stretch of road, a minute's inattention, and travellers could find themselves lost on some meandering side path, confused and unable to find their way back to the main road. Dead, eventually. Of exposure, if they didn't stumble into a pool, or happen upon dangerous beasts – thinking or otherwise.

Even so, he and the others pushed on. _Nearly out, nearly out... tonight, tomorrow... Was that a bird I heard? Earthmother grant it was a bird, a beetle, something alive! Nearly out..._

Sand stopped dead, and Danno nearly walked straight into him.

"Did you hear it?" Sand was barely whispering, his lips shaping a soft movement of air.

Danno strained his ears. Heard nothing. Grobnar made a faint squeak, half excited, half fearful.

Then, in the distance ahead, drifting wisps of light. Pale, feeble patches in the mist, that moved uncertainly. And, yes, a sound. Hardly audible at first, but gradually swelling, growing. A terrible moaning, grunting, bleating, gasping sound. A sound of men and beasts in horrible torment.

The sound faded. The lights became brighter, closer.

"Mystra and Sehanine, what is it?" Sand trembled, his eyes wild.

Now, Danno could just barely make out a single voice. A voice rising and falling in a strange, rhythmic chant. And answering it, the ghastly sound they'd heard first rose again, closer, approaching them.

"Um... Sir Danno? Don't want to make a fuss or anything, but maybe we should seek shelter? I mean, it sounds absolutely fascinating but maybe... well, maybe we should be fascinated from a safe distance?"

Sand shot Grobnar a bewildered look, as if the gnome had suddenly sprouted wings and launched into a learned discourse on the correct use of magic in divining the future. Then he grabbed Danno's shoulder and muttered, "For once in his life I do believe Grobnar has said something sensible. Perhaps those trees, over there..."

"Wait."

Danno strained his ears, desperately listening. _I know that sound. I've heard it before..._

Again the single voice started to chant. But now, Danno could make out the words, and could just barely make out a tune... as sung by a man who couldn't carry a tune in a greater bag of holding.

"Ohhh...  
When I went down, down on the farm, down on the farmer's wife!  
She prayed to the Earthmother, prayed for a child,  
And she prayed with all her might!  
And her prayer went..."

And here the other voices joined, in a random jumble of falsetto moans and groans, sniggering shouts of "Oh yes!", "Do me, big boy!".

_And now the next verse..._

"Ohhh...  
When I went down, down on the farm, down on the farmer's horse!  
She prayed to the Earthmother, prayed for a foal,  
And she prayed with all her force!  
And her prayer went..."

The terrible chorus rose again, this time a cacophony of neighs, snorts, and... _are those meant to be hooves?!_

The source of the unholy din came into view through the mist.

Soldiers. Not just soldiers, Greycloaks, carrying torches, bellowing the chorus of the bawdy song at the tops of their lungs, as if they would drive the oppressive silence from the whole mere – or die trying. Soldiers stamping their feet, tossing their heads – _prancing_! Danno half expected to see one of them pretending to mount another... _Ah yes, there we go_.

As the wild chorus ran down, and the squad fell into a semblance of a march again, Bevil drew a deep breath, and began to bellow the third verse.

"Ohhh...  
When I went down, down on the farm, down on the farmer's sow!  
She...

_**DANNO!??**_"

They stared at each other, unable to find words to express what they felt.

_That can't be Bevil. It can't! He'd never even **listen** to that song, always walked out when Lewy started singing it. It's an imposter! He's enchanted! He..._

_Do the patrols always act like this, if they think no-one's looking?! Gods! I had no idea._

Bevil stood rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open. He had gone white as a sheet, as if he'd seen a ghost – then he started to grin, and blush. An instant later Danno was caught up in a crushing bear hug.

"Danno! Earthmother bless, it's you, it's really you! We thought... we thought we'd lost you!"

"Just... mislaid... Bevil... you're crushing..." _No, not like this. I don't want to die like this!_

Bevil let go of him, stood back holding him at arm's length, still grinning like an idiot. "Gods, Danno, it's a miracle! We stopped looking months ago, everyone did, except Deaghun. Everyone thought you were gone!"

"Oh my, no! He's been with us all the time! I say, that song you were singing, I don't suppose you could teach it to me?"

Danno was tempted to force Bevil to go through the patrol's smutty marching song there and then (_stopped looking months ago, did you?_), but reluctantly took pity on Bevil as he blushed even deeper, and the men (hastily back in neat ranks and standing to attention) started smirking and surreptitiously nudging each other - "_The Sergeant's never gonna live this down..._"

"Not now Grobnar. Bevil, it... it's wonderful to see you again, it really is. I..." Danno stopped, groping for words that just wouldn't come. _Ah, and the uncontrollable flow of emotion just pours out once again. _He took a breath.

"Bevil, I've really missed you."

Bevil grinned, thumped him lightly on the shoulder. "Gods bless you Danno, where have you been? What happened to you? We damn near hollowed out the mere, searching those ruins. We thought you were buried, crushed flat."

Danno thought of trying to tell their tangled story, and recoiled from the idea. "It's a long story, and I think Grobnar can tell it a lot better than me..." Sand sighed wearily, "... when we're back at the keep."

For an instant Bevil hesitated, then his bearing became subtly more formal, more like a sergeant addressing a commander. "Yes, of course. Men, form up and look lively! Your command, Knight Captain."

_Yes, of course. My command. Whether I want it or not._

"It's alright, Bevil. You have your patrol, that's important. A couple of men to see us safe to Crossroads Keep, or Fort Locke if that's been rebuilt..." Bevil shook his head, "... well, the keep then. A couple of men will do fine, really."

"A couple of men?!" Bevil seemed faintly scandalised at the idea. He frowned in thought, then turned to a corporal. "Corporal, the patrol will continue under your command. Alira, Johan..." speaking to two lanky Greycloaks in light gear, "carry this message to Crossroads Keep."

He scribbled a few words on a blank sheet of parchment, writing fast but concentrating ferociously on the treacherous symbols. _Poor Bevil, he never was much for writing_. The runners took the message, saluted, and loped off into the mist.

"Gorill, Matt, Cally, you'll come with me to escort the Knight Captain and his comrades."

The three soldiers he'd picked moved to flank Danno and the others, while the reduced patrol saluted, wheeled about, and marched briskly southward. Soon the sounds of a far more conventional marching song could be heard drifting off into the distance.

Bevil turned back to Danno, starting to beam again, shaking his head in wonder. "I still can't believe it, after all this time." His smile faded a little. "Um... the others..."

"Oh, they're fine," interrupted Grobnar. "Well, except for mistress Qara. Er, and master Jerro. But everybody else is quite well!"

Bevil looked down sadly. "I'm sorry to hear Qara and Ammon died. I... I'm afraid I didn't much like them, but they were courageous."

"Well, yes," commented Sand irritably, "if turning traitor for the promise of dark power is courageous, or hiring thugs to do back-alley murder is courageous, then I suppose they were." He thought for a moment, then with a sidelong glance at Danno added, "I suppose it's _some_ comfort to know that at least you, Sergeant, are a good judge of character."

Danno glared at him. "I gave Qara a chance despite your warnings, yes. I also gave a former Hostower lackey and professional informer a chance. Remember? Now let it alone Sand, it's over."

Then, ignoring Sand's sputtering indignation and Bevil's awkward embarrassment (and Grobnar's puzzled "Hostower lackey..? Oh my! I had no idea! Master Sand, do you think Elanee knows?!"), he turned and started walking.

A few seconds later Bevil fell into step beside him. "Nothing changes eh?"

He sighed. "No, nothing changes."

Bevil chuckled weakly. "Don't worry, it isn't just you. Last time Lord Nasher came to inspect the keep, he and Nevalle were bickering the whole time – well, Lord Nasher was snarling at Nevalle, and Nevalle was being very formal and proper at Lord Nasher, but you know what I mean. Kana didn't know where to look... and Katriona was running a book on what horrible posting Nevalle would be assigned to next. But Nevalle's the closest thing to a friend Nasher's got – I don't think anything could get them to really fall out."

They trudged on silently for a bit, before he said softly, "Danno, I don't know what you've gone through since... since you disappeared. But everyone at the keep's devoted to you. They... _we'd_ do anything for you. We'll just get you home, and everything'll be alright, you'll see."

_Home. Is the keep really home? Is that the answer? Go to Crossroads Keep, manage its affairs, do the paperwork, take decisions... I hated it, but I was quite good at it, wasn't I? I got the keep in shape with hardly any support from Nasher. The farms around it, too._

_I'd have a good position. Respect, even. Perhaps._

_Maybe... maybe that's the right thing to do. Maybe it really is._

Danno smiled at Bevil. "Thanks."

---

That was three weeks ago, and now he was standing on the walls of Crossroads Keep thinking about death, and failure.

_It's no good. No good at all._

_I'm as good as dead._

_I'm buried, buried deep in duty. They've hammered down the lid, lowered me in a hole, and filled in the hole with rosters, funds, manpower and taxes. And the paperwork falls, like drifting snow, a soft white blanket to freeze it all solid._

_And now I'm writing pretentious bloody garbage in my head!_

_I can't carry on like this, I can't, I can't..._

_I won't._

_It's easy. I just stop. Just say 'No'. When Nasher arrives to inspect the keep, I just tell him I can't do it any more._

_It's as easy as that. It... it really is. Gods, I can't believe it. I've finally made up my mind. I'm going south. There really is nothing for me here, not even West Harbor..._

He'd talked to Bevil about it. Asked what was happening there. Asked if Bevil wanted... Bevil hadn't even let him finish the question. He'd just shaken his head and said "It's New Harbor now. Without mum and the others... our Sal got out at the end, grabbed the twins and ran for it, managed to survive the swamps and the death in the air, the gods only know how. But... well, the twins are young, they'll get over it, but Sal, she'll never be the same. And she won't go back.

"It isn't home now. This is home, and I'll be staying put."

_West Harbor gone. Daeghun missing, off looking for me Bevil says. Bevil staying here, at the keep. Nothing to keep me here, no reason to stay. No reason not to go searching... even if it does take the rest of my life._

_Oh gods, here comes Kana. 'Sir Danno, you must decide if the men train or patrol.' 'Sir Danno, should we tax the peasants or tithe the merchants?' 'Sir Danno, it is vital that you tell me which shoes to wear.' 'Sir Danno, do I wipe my arse with my left hand or my right?'_

_She looked so happy when I came in through the gates with Bevil. No wonder, it must've been like all her feast days rolled into one, at last someone who actually outranked her to tell her what to do!_

_I'm amazed Katriona didn't murder her before now. Thank the gods Jalboun got himself dismissed in disgrace, he wouldn't have been so patient..._

"Sir Danno?" Kana hurried up, her usual severe, formal self – and looking just a little pleased and flustered. "Lord Nasher approaches, he will arrive within the hour."

"Thank you Kana, I'll be there to greet him. Have the Elite Greycloaks form up at the gates, put on a bit of a show for him."

Kana nodded briskly. "A very good idea. It is good to have a Commander in charge who understands the importance of observing such formalities." Her lips pursed disapprovingly.

_Damn! She's going to start complaining about Katriona again_. He spoke quickly, before she could say something he'd have to officially disapprove of. "Well, I'm glad you appreciate it."

To his surprise, she seemed to miss the sarcasm in his voice.

"Thank you Sir! I'll go and see to the men immediately." She turned and strode off briskly.

Danno shook his head in amused despair, and started following more slowly. _And why on Toril did she have to come and tell me herself anyway? Couldn't she send a messenger? That's what they're there for... Hang on. Was she __**blushing**__ just then? When I... when she thought I'd complimented her? Oh, hells and demons, I have __**got**__ to get out of here!_

---

"... and while recruit numbers have fallen significantly since the State of Emergency ended, retention is excellent and morale is high. We have sufficient numbers to patrol the Trade Way routinely as far as Leilen, and sporadically as far as Southmere. Those patrols are somewhat easier now that they can stop over in New Harbor. The settlement is unable to support them as yet, so we must maintain a supply cache there ourselves, and horses do not fare well in the Mere, but we confidently expect these problems to be overcome in time.

"As to weapons and equipment..."

Danno sat, his chin propped on one hand, watching listlessly as Kana stood to attention by the war table delivering one of her beloved reports to Lord Nasher. He glanced at Katriona, also at attention – and surreptitiously leaning against a wall. She had carefully taken up position behind both Nasher and Kana, and as Kana went on, she met Danno's glance and rolled her eyes. Then, quite improperly, she schooled her features into a parody of Kana's brisk self importance, and began silently opening and shutting her mouth – '_blah blah blah_'.

Danno hastily looked away, trying to suppress a smile. Nasher's eyes flicked toward him, his lips thinned... then he was watching Kana again with polite attention. _Damn, he doesn't miss a thing, does he_? Katriona hadn't missed the momentary, unspoken exchange either. She was now standing properly at attention, her face expressionless.

Danno glanced briefly at Lord Nasher. Their meeting, their first since Alanon had sent Danno and the others through a portal to Merdelain, hadn't gone as he'd expected. Lord Nasher had been... courteous. Cordial even. But he'd hardly acted as if he was greeting the saviour of his city and the Sword Coast. He'd been formal, brisk, and had said little about the destruction of the King of Shadows beyond "Congratulations! A job well done." Then he'd pushed straight onto the state of the keep, and called for Kana's report.

Now Lord Nasher sat in the war-room, with five Elite Greycloaks and the keep sergeants providing an honour guard, Nevalle on hand as usual. He listened with focussed concentration as Kana reeled off her facts and figures, then as her report wound down, he leant back and nodded at her.

"Thank you Lieutenant, a most complete report." Kana, already at attention, seemed to draw herself up even more stiffly, practically vibrating with alert professionalism. Nasher smiled thinly and turned to Danno.

"Well, Knight Captain, it seems the keep has been in good hands during your prolonged absence. You shouldn't have any trouble taking up your duties again with the Lieutenant's able assistance. I will require a private meeting later to let you know of Neverwinter's needs now that the threat from the King of Shadows is no more, but in the meantime..."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my Lord." _Who in the nine hells said... Oh. I did. Huh. Oh well, here goes... _"I won't be able to resume my duties at Crossroads Keep. I have... some personal matters that I must attend to that'll take me away from Neverwinter. I'd like to ask you to release me from your service."

Lord Nasher looked at him levelly, then nodded thoughtfully. "I will bear your request in mind Knight Captain. You shall be informed of my decision in due course. As I was saying before you interrupted me..." he frowned warningly... "In the meantime I wish you to thoroughly familiarise yourself with the changes in the running of the keep since you departed, and to build up the strength of the Keep. Neverwinter's funds are stretched thin, so you must raise all the necessary funds from these holdings, but I'm sure you will manage. Now, Is there any other business before I inspect the troops?"

Danno managed to close his hanging jaw. _He's refusing me? He's actually..._ There was an awkward shifting from everyone else in the room. _The commander's just been embarrassed in front of his staff._ Everyone was looking straight ahead, trying to avoid eye contact. He stared into Nasher's cool gaze, and couldn't shake the feeling that the room was swaying. His breath was coming fast.

"Lord Nasher, I don't think you understand. I must insist that I am not able to take up whatever duties you expect..."

"Knight Captain, I said that I will bear your request in mind!" Nasher's jaw was tight, and his tone final. "I will also say that I am most unhappy at your extraordinarily tardy return. I am particularly displeased at the diplomatic communications I have received from the Ruling Council of Amn, which, may I say, preceded your arrival by some months!" His voice abruptly rose angrily, not a parade ground bellow, but painfully loud even in that large room.

"I would have expected a Knight and an Officer of Neverwinter to behave more responsibly, and to represent Neverwinter's interests, not to embroil himself in another nation's internal affairs, nor to attract allegations of committing _murder_ upon one of the Ruling Council!"

He lowered his voice, leant back in his chair, and watched Danno with a hard and angry gaze. "Considering your past service I am inclined to disregard these allegations, despite the harm that this may cause Neverwinter in terms of trade and political alliances. You would do well to remember, however, that you have been entrusted with both rank and title. These carry with them privilege, but also duty.

"I shall decide when, or if, you shall be released from the duty that you owe to Neverwinter. Do you understand?"

For a long while, Danno said nothing.

Bevil was staring at his feet, while Katriona glared at the back of Nasher's head. Kana looked as if she wanted to be sick.

Finally, Danno managed to find his voice. He spoke very softly; very calmly.

"How dare you."

Nasher's eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth, but Danno didn't give him a chance to speak, rising to his feet and raising his voice.

"How dare you! What I owe Neverwinter? If it wasn't for me, Neverwinter would be dead! If it wasn't for me, the whole Sword Coast would be dead!" He was shouting now, leaning forward, his hands planted on the table, yelling into Nasher's face.

"Zombies and shades from Luskan to Waterdeep! Vampires lording it over your palace, over your city! If it wasn't for me..." Nasher was speaking, but Danno couldn't – wouldn't – hear, raising his voice louder.

"If it wasn't for me there'd be a Vampire Lord ruling Amn! A fucking Vampire Lord, and what harm would _that_ do to your precious Neverwinter's interests, hey? How _dare_ you preach to me, you arrogant, self satisfied piece of SHIT! What I owe Neverwinter? What I owe _Neverwinter_!? What about what _you_ owe _me_!?

"You owe me your life!

"_You owe me your city!_

"_**YOU OWE ME YOUR CROWN!!!"**_

And suddenly, unable to control himself, Danno lurched forward and clawed the circlet from Nasher's head.

He dimly heard cries of shock, through the ringing in his ears. Heard Katriona shout "Don't!" He saw Nevalle start to his feet. His hands clenched convulsively, twisting at the metal of the circlet. Dull pain ached in his palms, and he hurled the thing aside, heard it ring off a wall before skittering into a dark corner.

He stood motionless, his chest heaving, his legs trembling.

He looked down.

Nasher was sitting quite calmly, his face lightly spattered with saliva.

His eyes merciless.

_Oh gods. Oh gods, what have I done?_

Nasher carefully wiped his face and said, very softly, "Greycloaks, arrest that man."

_I can't fight them. It wouldn't be right. They don't deserve..._

Time seemed to move very slowly. He heard behind him the sound of a sword being drawn. A faint gasp. The sound of a sword being sheathed, hard.

"No M'Lord. No, I don't reckon we will."

Edging away from Lord Nasher, edging to put his back to a wall (_and what's the point of that if I'm not going to fight?_), Danno looked round at the speaker.

A heavy, thickset Greycloak, unshaven stubble and greasy hair. Uniform... in acceptable condition. Just. But looking indefinably faded and shabby. _What in the hells was Kana thinking, having him in the Elites?_ On second glance, no surprise at that at all. Calm, watchful, ready. Radiating absolute confidence, effortlessly commanding everyone's attention. He stood, his hand out to one side, casually gripping a younger Greycloak's hand in his own massive fist, holding it wrapped round the other's sword hilt. Holding the other man's sword in its sheath. _Gods he must be strong!_ The younger man's face was faintly grey, and tense with pain, and he stood very still and quiet.

Nasher had also stood, his hand resting lightly on his sword. Danno glanced round the room, and his heart sank. The Greycloaks tense, weapons sheathed, but except for the one confronting Nasher (and the one he was restraining), all tense and ready to fight in an instant, their eyes wide, their faces frightened. Kana, her blade drawn, but looking lost and bewildered. Katriona (_oh gods, no, __please no_), a short-sword in hand, had moved to stand just behind Kana, no expression on her face at all. Bevil had moved to stand between Nevalle and Danno. He was turned toward Nevalle, and Danno couldn't see his face.

_It'll be a massacre. If anyone so much as blinks..._

Lord Nasher seemed to think so as well. He didn't bluster or threaten. His voice calm and commanding, he simply said to the Greycloak, "Soldier, I think you are somewhat confused as to where your loyalties lie."

The Greycloak looked at him thoughtfully, and with his spare hand scratched at his jowls, his nails rasping over the stubble.

"No, I ain't confused. See, I'm a fighter. My dad, and my granddad, they were fighters too."

"Then you will understand..."

"Whole family have bin fighters. Fightin' the land. Fightin' the weather. Fightin' the bandits that raided the farm. Fightin' to raise a little coin, for when y'r Lordship's taxmen came 'round.

"Fightin', and dying too. My sister died, all because y'r Lordship's taxmen took the coin that would've bought a potion or two." Suddenly his expression turned ugly. "We never saw no good of that coin. Never saw patrols keepin' the bandits away. Never saw safe roads bringing merchants to buy our goods. Seems to me all that coin went to your city, to your fine buildings and big palace."

Lord Nasher's expression tightened, but he remained silent – his eyes flicking to the others in the room. Assessing.

"Now, the Captain there, he never taxed us. He kept the bandits away, kept the roads safe. Skimmed off the merchants, but they came right enough. And when the money ran out, _he_ didn't gouge us. He went and killed a dragon. Damn near built the whole keep, that dragon's hoard did."

Danno glanced round at the other Greycloaks. _Which way will they jump?_ One was staring at the turncoat in outrage. The others were looking thoughtful.

"And the captain, well, he never sent armies ahead of him to die. Never called up untrained farmers to put swords they couldn't use in their hands. He was always there, fightin' his own battles. Way I hear it, he went alone, near enough, to save all our hides, just him and his friends."

The Greycloak stared levelly at Lord Nasher, one equal to another. "No M'Lord, I reckon I know who's won my loyalty. And who hasn't."

A moment of silence.

_Better... better if they were all against me. Fewer deaths._

Danno stepped forward, took his hand off the hilt of the silver blade. "Do your duty, Soldier. Do your duty, or they'll hang you as a mutineer."

The Greycloak gave him a strange look. Curious, admiring - disappointed. He let go of the other man's hand. The younger man stepped away from him and rubbed his hand, wincing, but didn't try and draw his blade again.

"Hanged as a mutineer, you say?" Muddy brown eyes regarded him thoughtfully.

"That is the penalty for taking arms against Neverwinter." Lord Nasher's voice was as heavy and certain as a crypt door slamming. "To be hung until near death. To be drawn, still alive. To be quartered. To be buried in the Tomb of Betrayers."

The Greycloak gave him a contemptuous look. Then, very carefully, he unbuckled his sword belt. He stepped forward, and very deliberately laid the sheathed sword on the large table, opposite Lord Nasher. He stood for a moment, staring at Lord Nasher, his fingers resting on the hilt.

"This sword... well, it ain't a fine sword. Wartime stuff, made cheap and quick. But it's a _good_ sword. It's fought bandits, lawless murderers, wild beasts. Zombies, shades, vampires even. It's never been drawn against a good man, and it won't be drawn against one now. Not by me."

He stepped away from the sword, folded his arms. "As for hanging... well, I was pardoned for my crimes when I joined up. But I deserve to hang, I reckon, so no great loss there. But let me tell you, if I hang for this..." He suddenly smiled at Lord Nasher, and winked. "If I hang for this, I reckon we'll be meeting in the hells some day. Reckon I'd be the one to do a bit o' kickin' then."

Nasher glared at him, then drew breath. "Greycloaks, you have your orders."

Two of the other Greycloaks stepped forward, their hands going to their swords. Katriona sighed, her expression one of disillusionment. Danno relaxed.

_It could have been a massacre. Now... just two dead. That's not so bad..._

The two Greycloaks unbuckled their sword belts, laid their swords before Lord Nasher, and stepped back to join their comrade. A moment later, the others did as well.

Nasher's mouth twisted in a snarl, and he half drew his sword. _He held off a Reaver alone. He could kill the lot of them, even if they were armed..._ Danno's blade was in his hands in an instant, the shards growling metallically.

Nasher stared at him in fury, and his sword was unsheathed now, light glinting off it's edge.

Katriona, a hard smile on her lips, stepped past Kana and laid her short-sword on the table.

Bevil stayed put between Nevalle and Danno.

Kana stood motionless, blade in hand, but the tip was drooping to the floor, and she looked stunned and helpless.

Nasher and Danno watched each other.

Then Nasher, his face white with rage, sheathed his sword.

His face twisted into a rictus smile. "Well, Danno Benner, it looks as if you get your wish. You are relieved of your duties. You are stripped of your rank and titles. You are banished in disgrace from Neverwinter for the rest of your natural days.

"And make no mistake, boy. Whatever your strength or skills, you are only one man. Remain in Neverwinter, or attempt to attack me, and you _will_ die."

Danno hesitated – then sheathed his blade, and bowed fractionally. "Thank you, Lord Nasher. And what about these men?"

Nasher looked coldly at the unarmed Greycloaks. "That is none of your concern."

"No. It is my concern." Danno tried to speak calmly, but his voice was trembling with hatred and fear. "If you threaten them, I will kill you, even if I die instantly. I killed Ammon Jerro for threatening my friends; I don't think you're stronger than he was. So tell me... What about these men."

There was a long silence. Nasher glanced at Kana, Nevalle. At Bevil. He looked towards the door.

_Weighing up his options. What if he calls for help? What then?_

_Could he live it down? Calling to be rescued from two men? With Nevalle and... gods, would Kana be for him or not? Could she even fight without a clear enemy?_

Nasher clenched his fist, hissed softly between his teeth, and then... "They refused an order. They will be harshly disciplined, and reduced in rank. They will be neither crippled nor killed, nor dishonoured."

To Danno's surprise, Kana, seeming almost to wake from a dream, looked straight at Nevalle and said softly, "Sir Nevalle, you are a witness to Lord Nasher's undertaking."

Nevalle slowly sheathed his sword, turned to Nasher and said faintly, "I am a witness. And if called on to do so, I shall bear witness."

For the first time that afternoon, Nasher didn't look angry, or confident, or contemptuous. He looked shocked, and hurt.

Kana sheathed her sword, and in her turn removed it and placed it on the table. Bevil did the same.

Abruptly, Lord Nasher turned away and strode to the door. "Come, Nevalle!" He wrenched open the door and left the room, calling furiously for his horse and his guard. Nevalle, shamefaced, not meeting anyone's gaze, went to the corner of the room and bent down. Then, carrying Nasher's warped circlet in his hands, he followed the Lord of Neverwinter from the room.

One by one, gravely and without conversation, the others also left. But as they passed Danno, each saluted, and gave him the title that wasn't Nasher's to take.

"Shardbearer."

"Shardbearer."

"Shardbearer..."

---

For a long time, Danno stood looking after them.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he thought - nothing. He simply stood, staring at the door, listening to the sounds of the keep from beyond. One phrase circled round and round in his mind, but it wasn't even a thought, just a litany of meaningless words.

_Going south. Going south. Going south..._

He started violently as someone cleared their throat behind him, and spun round. A figure stood by the table, and the swords lying on it. A curiously indistinct figure, that could have been man or woman; human, halfling, elf, orc or drow.

A finger was lifted to forehead in a casual salute.

"Victory in surrender, eh? Fighting by refusing to take arms? Not my style, really. Not my style at all! But... worth remembering. Worth a reminder." A sly, sardonic smile, and fingers rested lightly on one of the sword hilts.

And then... Danno was alone, in an empty room.

Alone, with a journey before him.


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

There are many stories told by the Greycloaks of Crossroads keep, when they gather at the end of the day to eat, and drink, and boast of their own greatness.

Most of these are tales told wherever fighting men tell their tales, and they are always the same; tales of self aggrandisement to bolster the self esteem of men – and women – living hard and dangerous lives for little reward.

But there are three stories told by the Greycloaks of Crossroads keep that are told by no other fighting man anywhere in all Faerun. Indeed, these three tales are told by no other man or woman anywhere.

One of these stories is of the Knight Captain who wasn't nobility, but was a common swamp farmer. Who rose to high rank through his own heroism and skill, and who never licked the boot of any of the 'high born'. Who turned back an army of undead, where all of Lord Nasher's efforts had failed. Who then travelled with only his close companions into the darkness, to confront and defeat a great evil, and so save all of Neverwinter. And who, despite all the stories told by the bards (and paid for by Nasher's court), did come back.

Who spat in Lord Nasher's eye and lived to tell the tale, because the old tyrant was afraid of him, and of his Greycloaks who knew the true meaning of courage and loyalty.

They say that he left on a cold day of rain, without fanfare or celebration, leading an ill-tempered pack mule that was loaded by his own hand. But every man, woman and child in the keep laid down their work or their play, and gathered silently in the courtyard to watch him go. And as he walked to the gates, they knelt without a sound, in the mud and the rain, and bowed their heads.

And as he passed through the gates, a travel stained and mud-spattered figure, an elven ranger by his features and gear, stepped out of the shadows by the gate where he'd been standing and said, so soft that only the closest heard...

"If you are hunting, you will be needing a guide."

The second story, told only by the Greycloaks of Crossroads Keep, is of eight blades. Common blades. Wartime blades, made quick and cheap, with no enchantment or maker's mark on them.

Eight blades, passed quietly on from one Greycloak of the keep to another, as a sacred trust.

Eight god-touched blades, that when drawn against men of evil, or creatures of darkness, will strike with a power and fury the equal of the greatest enchanted blades, and will grant strength and courage to steady hand and heart. Even when nothing awaits but defeat and death.

Eight blades that, if turned upon men or women of honour and courage, will stick in their sheaths or twist aside from the blow, and will leave their bearer, be they the most ferocious fighter, uncertain and afraid.

The third story, told only by the Greycloaks of Crossroads Keep, is of the great Lady in far off Amn, a ruler of that powerful nation, a mage and a warrior of immense power and immeasurable wealth. A Lady who is advised and assisted by her constant companion, a wizard from the far north of the Sword Coast. A man who... also assists her in other ways.

Two of these stories are true.

I know the truth of them.

I travelled with the Shardbearer, fought alongside him. I aided him, as best I could, as he faced and defeated the Shadow. I parted company with him, some little while after that terrible battle, but spoke with him once more as he travelled south at the start of a long and hopeless search.

And, years afterwards, I bore for a time one of the Destroyer's swords. Bore it through battle and dark times, until it was returned to it's rightful home at Crossroads Keep. I felt its power, the rage against darkness, the urge to fight on no matter the cost. To fight on to the bitter end.

But that is an old and familiar temptation, and I will never yield to it again. I carried that dreadful, glorious weapon only until the danger to my love and our children was turned aside, then laid it down with relief.

The third story... I doubt.

I would wish it were true. Despite his failings, despite his inadequacies, despite his flaws and weaknesses, the Shardbearer was an honourable and courageous man. A man of little experience, who felt fear and doubt keenly, and yet who strove faithfully to do what was asked of him.

He triumphed where few would have survived, and I would wish a peaceful and happy life for him.

But I think of a conversation I had, not so long ago, with a trader from distant Calimshan... and I doubt the Greycloaks' tale.

The trader was a tall, cadaverous man, with sharp eyes and an oily manner. He traded his wares, brought stories of doings in Calimshan, and listened with great care and attention to tales of events in Neverwinter. His own tales, I believe, were of no great consequence, intended merely to encourage similar tales in those he spoke to.

A petty spy then. An information broker of little consequence, fishing for titbits that had been dismissed by more accomplished eyes and ears as being beneath them.

But one of his inconsequential tales caught my attention.

He spoke of the new Watch Commander in Calimport, a man some few years in his post, a man...

"Surely a man of these northern climes, judging by his pale complexion and manner of speech. A man of most high renown or deep infamy, I feel certain, for he has won great comment on his actions in our fair city."

"In what way?" I asked.

"Why, in his most... barbarous devotion to the duties of his office."

"'Barbarous'?"

"Most assuredly. For surely all civilised men acknowledge that there are those who have amply demonstrated, by their wealth and high standing, that their actions are beyond reproach. Yet this uncultured northerner seems not to understand this self evident fact."

The trader sighed, and shook his head sadly at such crude folly. "Not a slaver nor a usurer in the city is safe from his... unsophisticated application of those laws the Caliph, in his infinite wisdom, clearly intended to be applied to the common mass of the city, the dungheap from which grows the fair flower of our civilised nobility. Oh, this foreigner is beloved of the unwashed and unlettered hordes, for he strives constantly to make the streets safe for them to walk without fear. Which... which, I concede, is good for business. Very good indeed. And good for the Caliph's exchequer, to which our honoured Watch Commander must owe much of his great favour with our enlightened ruler.

"But even so! Why, even the Qadi Akhtar Zamir was most sorely troubled by this uncultured lawman's attentions. And I ask you, is it any fault of the noble Qadi that his young catamite turned out to have such a weak constitution? Be assured, many other young men had withstood the honourable Qadi's pleasures with no permanent damage. And yet this man of nobility and culture was hounded, questioned, interrogated!" The trader near shook with the force of his obscene indignation. "Why, if the Caliph himself had not intervened, I fear the good Qadi may have been executed!"

"The... Qadi yet lives?" I enquired, though other names for the man came to mind.

The trader sighed and spread his hands. "Alas, no. His wealth, the majesty of his estates, attracted the attention of Mask's Shadow."

"A thief?"

"Ah, indeed. A thief, some say. A fiend from the deepest pit of the abyss, say I! No treasure is safe from this monster's grasp, no matter the guards or protections. The Qadi's treasury, stripped bare in one night! And so the noble Akhtar Zamir met his end, for without wealth, and so without friends or the Caliph's favour... why, what was he to do? Suffer the shame of arrest? Of a _trial_? Though his own hand may have wielded the blade, it was most surely Mask's Shadow that slew him.

"And this is our barbarian lawman's other great failing, for he has yet to apprehend this foul beast. Why the Caliph still allows him to retain his post I cannot imagine, for Mask's Shadow steals only from the most wealthy, the most powerful, the most noble.

"Some say," and here the inept spy's gaze became shifty, as if, in his excitement and indignation, he were imparting a secret to be whispered only in dark corners. "Some do say that the Caliph fears to move against this new enforcer of the Caliph's own law. Some say..." and his voice dropped even lower, "... that Mask's Shadow falls most darkly over those whose wealth and nobility have protected them from the Watch Commander's justice, and falls darker still over any who would threaten the man himself. None – none! - will say what happened the night that the Shadow raided the Pasha's very bed-chamber, and this but days after our great and courageous Pasha moved that the foreign lawman be removed from his post. But to this day the Pasha will blanch and be near unmanned at the mere sight of a peacock.

"There are even those who whisper that this... interloper has indeed captured Mask's Shadow – has indeed captured her almost every night. Or that she has captured him."

The trader suddenly drew himself upright, casting a wary glance around the tavern's public room. "But, no wise man believes such dark whisperings about an officer of the Caliph who, to retain both his position and his head, must be held in high regard by our infinitely wise ruler."

"Clearly no wise man would dare," I commented with, I confess, some dark humour in my voice. "Tell me, this northern Watch Commander. Would his name be..." The trader leaned toward me eagerly. "I mean to say, would you happen to know his name?"

"Indeed, no." The despicable man looked at me with some disappointment and disgust, then glanced out of the door to the street. "Ah, I see my worthless servants have at last loaded my goods, and regrettably I must take my leave of your... quaint little hamlet. But, I forget my manners. No, he does not call himself by his given name. He styles himself Kirik Kilic." He sniffed disdainfully. "An ignorant foreigner's attempt at our native tongue, it is not even a true name. In the Common, you might say 'Broken Sword'."

And, with a formal bow, he turned and left.

I do not know the truth of this tale, and I shall not travel so far to learn it. I have a duty to my family, and to my adopted home, and the years do start to weigh upon my frame.

But, if I do not miss my guess as to the true identities of this 'Broken Sword' and 'Mask's Shadow', then perhaps the Shardbearer has won for himself a measure of happiness.

But not, I think, of peace.


End file.
